


Louder Than Words

by Meep_Morp



Series: The World Calling [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Peter Parker, Connor is also precious, Established Relationship, F/M, Gammadad, Gay Male Character, Irondad, Jewish Peter Parker, M/M, My love for Bruce intensified significantly after writing this, POV Alternating, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Tony Stark, That's right kids we're giving Bruce a son too!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meep_Morp/pseuds/Meep_Morp
Summary: Infinity War, as experienced by Connor and Peter.The sequel-of-sorts to How The Mighty Fall. Can be read as a standalone story, however.





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Welcome to the sorta-sequel to How The Mighty Fall. I prefer to call this an interquel, though, because it's less of a full-fledged story and more of a stepping stone to the proper sequel. Which is coming! But that pesky thing called canon still exists.
> 
> Yes, this is fanfic, so yes, canon is technically my bitch, but I am slightly obsessive when it comes to developing my AUs in that I don't want to skip anything. Hence this incredibly long two-shot. There will be an Endgame follow-up, and then we'll move properly to the next story in the series. So it means more work for me, but also more content for you.
> 
> IMPORTANT: If this your first foray into Peter and Connor's world, you'll see that chronologically there is a fic set before this one, called How The Mighty Fall. Do not be scared off by its length. This two-shot can be read without needing the context of the 150k fic which preceded it. I doubt it will have the same impact, but reading this first is still entirely possible. Spoilers for HTMF are included in this fic, however.

Connor had a problem.

Realistically, he had several, but most of them required some kind of trained specialist to address. However, currently the most intimidating issue involved his love life, and he was pretty sure no one had a PhD in that particular subject.

No, this problem concerned the calendar. With every day that ticked by, March drew further and further to a close. That meant April was just around the corner, and with it came a milestone—he and Peter would officially have been dating for six months.

Connor didn’t have a whole lot of  _ experience _ with relationships, but he  _ did _ know that the concept of an anniversary was pretty traditional. They might not be married—neither of them were anywhere  _ close _ to that—but the first six months as a couple seemed like an important thing to acknowledge. Besides, he might not need a  _ reason _ to enjoy loving Peter, but he would happily take any excuse to do so.

“If you think any harder, your face is going to get stuck like that and smoke will come out of your ears. And then I will laugh at you.”

He sent a half-hearted glower to MJ. They were sharing the same bench on the school bus, near the back. Peter was a few rows up, playing on his phone—Connor could see his reflection in the window, between the seats.

“Tuesday after next is our six-month,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice low so his boyfriend’s super-hearing wouldn’t pick it up. “I want to do something for it, but I don't know what.”

“First of all, gross,” MJ deadpanned. “Second, you could literally make him a mud pie and he would be over the moon about it. Because he is also gross. You see the pattern?”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I. Look, it’s only a big deal if you  _ make _ it one.” She arched one eyebrow at him. “What about Iron Man? Maybe he has advice.”

Connor winced. Things between he and Tony were better than ever, but it was hard to shake the “I am your boyfriend’s scary dad” vibe he sometimes still gave off. “Let’s save that as a last resort.”

They could go to dinner. Someplace nice, but not extravagant—neither of them were particularly comfortable with huge displays of money, even though Tony would happily buy out a whole restaurant for them if his protege asked. Peter was virtually  _ always _ hungry, and nothing like a dinner date to make a night feel special, right?

Suddenly, Ned was shouting.

“Oh my God. We’re all gonna die!”

Connor leaned up, poking his head over the rows of seats to get a clear view. Ned had turned in his direction, but was looking out the window with wide eyes. Curiously, instinctively, he craned his neck to follow Ned’s gaze, and his stomach dropped.

Their bus was headed back to Midtown, but from its position on the Williamsburg Bridge, Manhattan was visible across the water. Directly above the city’s skyline floated a massive ring-shaped vessel, clearly not of human origin. Even from this distance, he could see the wind it had kicked up in its descent, and the turbines inside it didn’t seem to be slowing down.

“It’s a spaceship!” Ned yelled, as the students around them all turned and clamored for a look.

Through the chaos, an unmistakable  _ thwip _ caught his ears, and Connor found its source just in time to watch him slip out the now-open emergency exit on the side of the school bus.

_ Did he just…? _

“MJ, here,” he said, shoving his backpack into her lap and squeezing past her. “Hold this.”

As more and more citizens took notice of the ship above their city, traffic slowed to a crawl, and their bus came to a halt. This was very fortunate, because Connor couldn’t stick to the outside of a moving vehicle, unlike a certain idiot who had just  _ launched himself off the bridge. _

As Peter hurtled out of sight, evidently off to investigate the alien happenings, Connor leapt out of the emergency exit after him. There was a black sedan idling next to the bus, and when he hit the roof, the driver inside screamed.

“Hi,” he called out weakly, trying to offer a reassuring smile through the sunroof. “Can I borrow this?”

* * *

The driver had not been impressed with Connor’s request. Short on time and in lieu of a more convincing argument, he simply opted to use his powers, siphoning just enough energy to make them sleepy. Then he deposited them on the sidewalk and swiped their keys.

After that came the real challenge.

Peter might have failed his driver’s test, but at least he’d  _ attempted _ one. When Connor moved in with the Parkers, he’d essentially had to rebuild his whole life from the ground up. After three years of living on the streets, learning how to drive wasn’t exactly high on his list of priorities.

So he wasn’t terribly surprised when his efforts ended with the sedan being lodged firmly between two parked cars, and leaving him with a mild headache. Fortunately, he’d made his way several blocks into Manhattan before crashing, and the spaceship above the city was a useful landmark to guide him—all he had to do was head toward it. 

As he broke into a run, heading west up Bleecker Street, Connor reached beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled out his necklace. It was similar to the one Tony had given him after his and Peter’s first disastrous fight against Negative, but slightly bigger. Tony had made good on his promise about multiple housing units—now Conor only needed one, instead of the necklace, bracelets,  _ and _ a belt. 

Nearly everyone was sprinting away from the ship, and the crowd quickly impeded his path. After getting buffeted by one too many pedestrians, Connor leapt up onto the hood of a minivan and continued his progress, using the parked cars as stepping stones.

As he got closer, he heard sounds. A strange whizzing noise, the grunt of impact, and then—

The familiar sound of a repulsor cut through the air, and relief shot through Connor. Wherever Tony Stark was, Peter was always nearby.

He rounded the corner, and saw them.

Among the four men standing in the middle of the street, Iron Man stuck out easily. The next most eye-catching were a pair wearing dark blue robes, though one of them had an ornate red cape draped over his shoulders. The fourth man had greying hair, ragged clothes, and was currently flailing his arms at Tony.

“Where did that come from?”

“It’s nanotech, you like it?” Tony asked smugly, turning around to face him. “A little something I—”

He broke off, looking over the man’s shoulder to stare directly at Connor. But before he could say anything, the ground beneath him exploded, launching him into the air as if propelled out of a cannon. In the distance ahead of the remaining men, the culprit was just barely discernible among debris—a tall, wizened alien with a massive forehead and thin white hair. As Connor watched, he gestured and several trees rose up from the ground to hurtle toward the group like giant spears. But the shorter man waved his hands, projecting a massive orange mandala which resisted the projectiles.

As the shield held, the man in the red cape turned around and spun his fingers in a circle, saying, “Dr. Banner, if the rest of your green friend won’t be joining us...”

Their companion—Dr. Banner, presumably—yelped as an orange portal opened beneath him and he tumbled into it, disappearing from view.

As Connor continued to stare, gawking at the scene before him, Red Cape Guy spotted him as well. With a completely indifferent look, he spun his fingers again.

The ground opened up under his feet before he could realize what was happening, and he fell weightlessly through. His feet hit the ground faster than he expected, and his knees buckled, pitching him forward into green grass. A few yards away, there was a thunderous crash as the back end of a taxi slammed into the lawn as well, accompanied by Banner’s alarmed shriek.

Connor scrambled to his feet, his head spinning. After doing a quick 360, he identified their location as Washington Square Park, only a few blocks away from Bleecker Street. Before he could take in anything else, there was a loud crashing sound behind him. Connor whirled around just in time to see Tony’s red-and-gold form plow a trench into the lawn, until he came into contact with a tree and slumped against it. Banner was already rushing toward him.

“Tony! You okay? How we doing? Good? Bad?”

“Really really good,” Iron Man snarked back, as he lay in the dirt. “Really good. Do you plan on helping out?”

“I’m trying, he won’t come out!”

Suddenly, with a cry of “Hammer!” Tony lunged forward, tackling Bruce to the ground as a massive claw flew overhead. Connor was too far away to be in danger of being hit, but he recoiled nonetheless. The chain attached to it went taut, then reeled the tool back in to its owner—a massive alien with scaly skin, much larger than any of them. Without saying another word, Tony launched himself at the attacking behemoth. A brilliant orange laser erupted from his gauntlets, but the alien threw up a shield which refracted the beam in multiple directions—Connor yelped and dove out of the way of one in particular, and Banner hollered in alarm as a tree nearly fell on him.

“Come on, Hulk! What are you doing to me?” he moaned as he crawled out from underneath. Then, to Connor’s utter confusion, he began striking himself across the face. “Come out! Come out! Come out!”

Abruptly, one half of Banner’s face swelled, turned green, and a much deeper voice echoed from his throat. “NO!”

Then it was gone, and Banner twitched, then collapsed to the ground in a limp mess. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” he yelled incredulously at the sky.

_ Oh, _ Connor realized stupidly.  _ Duh. The Hulk. Another Avenger. _

An echoing gong caught his ear. Tony had been thrown into the ground, and the alien’s hammer was swinging toward him—

Which was when Peter, seemingly out of thin air, dropped from the sky and caught it before it could crush his mentor.

“Hey, man!” He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s up Mr. Stark?”

“Kid! Where’d you come from?”

“A field trip to— _ MoMA!” _ The last word turned into a shout as the massive alien seized him, wrapping an entire meaty fist around his torso, and hurled him bodily across the park.

That was when Connor saw red, and decided that he was done playing catch-up.

He tapped the center of the necklace. The housing unit unlocked, spilling nanotech across his chest, until it covered his torso and arms with segmented armor. Underneath, connecting the plates to each other, flexible metal fibers protected areas which needed more range of motion, such as his joints. He still felt ridiculous wearing the getup in only his T-shirt and jeans, but it  _ was _ better than nothing.

Then the nanotech continued on, surrounding his head in one smooth motion to form a helmet. Its eyepieces were white and moved to match his expression, but unlike Peter’s they were perfect circles. A HUD flickered to life before him, analyzing their enemy without prompt. 

_ “Hello, Connor,” _ a synthetic voice greeted him, and he smiled a little.

“Hi, Karen.”

She still primarily existed within the Spider-Man suit, but Tony had linked Connor’s armor to Peter’s so Karen could assist them both in the field. The ever-present entity following him around had taken a little getting used to, but now he couldn’t imagine a suit without her.

Sprinting forward into battle, he threw out his hands and released a burst of blinding white energy from them.

When Negative had fatally stabbed him, he’d unlocked parts of his abilities he hadn’t known were possible. When Peter has restored him to life, his powers hadn’t reverted back to normal—they’d changed, and he wasn’t sure if that was because of his brush with death or if it had to do with Peter’s influence. Either way, he knew them to be stronger than they had ever been before.

But though the blast scorched the alien’s skin, it hardly seemed fazed, continuing to swing its hammer at Tony as he weaved through the air.

“What is this guy’s problem, Mr. Stark?” Peter yelled, yanking himself back into battle.

As Tony veered away, the alien decided to focus on a target still on the ground. Connor ducked under the hammer, rolling to his feet and firing another blast, with as much success as the first one. 

"I’d like to know that too!” he shouted.

“Uh, he’s from space, he came here to steal a necklace from a wizard!”

While the alien’s back was turned, Peter lunged—but it sensed him coming and whirled around, entrapping him in its claw-hammer and hurling him once again across the park.

“Peter!” Connor fired up a sustained blast, hoping to stall for time. Tony joined him, hitting it with a repulsor from above, and the alien threw up its shield again. With its free hand, it grabbed what remained of the taxi and hurled it at Tony. The projectile flew past, arcing high into the air—only to be caught by Peter with a web line. Heaving the debris with all his might, he pulverized the alien instantly.

Before it could recover, Connor directed an energy blast at the taxi, causing it to explode in a fireball. 

A brief lull settled on the battlefield. Tony dropped to the ground beside Connor, and gave him a look. A second later, Peter joined them. 

“Next time, suit up  _ before _ coming to lend a hand, okay? I gave you that tech for a reason, Goggles," Tony chastised.

His face flamed. “A lot is going on!”

“Yeah, well—” Peter began, as if to back Tony up, but Connor shot him a look. Wisely, he decided to say nothing.

“I’ve got the armor part of it on, at least,” Connor tried lamely, knowing Tony still had a point.

“You’re missing the underlayer,” was all the Avenger said, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yeah, I haven’t yet mastered the art of slipping into spandex.”

“It’s not  _ spandex, _ it’s—”

“Tony!” Banner interrupted, sprinting toward them. He skidded to a stop a few feet away, and gestured wildly at Connor and Peter. “Introductions?”

"I'm Spider-Man," Peter said, and Connor could hear the excited tremor in his voice. Oh, wasn't Banner a Midtown alum? "Because, uh, because of the spider." He pointed to the insignia on his chest.

"Right." Tony tilted his head. "And the other one is, uh…"

Connor stared at the adults, his brain misfiring. He’d shed the identity of Animus after defeating Negative, not wanting to hold on to the name of an Inner Demon. But he also just wasn't all about the superhero life like Peter was. He wasn’t even sure he  _ wanted _ a new name. 

Now he had to come up with one on the spot, and he was floundering. He manipulated  _ life energy. _ Seriously, why couldn't his abilities be something easy to theme, like iron or a spider? What was he, Soul-Man?

"The...the...Soul...the Soul Sentinel?" he tried, already hating the stupid name as it slipped from his lips. God, this was embarrassing. 

Peter turned to give him an incredulous look, the eyepieces of his suit blown wide.

"Yeah, definitely not," Tony said after a moment of awkward silence. "This is Spider-Man's boyfriend, who—”

“Who really wants to know what the hell is going on! Something about a necklace and a wizard?” Connor interrupted.

Banner looked down at him, with a kind of world-weary expression Tony would wear occasionally—the  _ my life is so fucking weird that I don’t bother questioning whatever happens to me anymore _ expression. It was a very specific look.

“Aliens,” he sighed loudly. “It’s aliens.”

There was very little Connor could say in response to that, other than, “Well,  _ that _ I noticed.”

Banner opened his mouth, possibly to tell him to get lost, but a roar echoed throughout the park. In their squabbling, their massive extraterrestrial enemy had recovered and flung his claw hammer at them. Tony stepped in its path and caught the weapon before it could pulverize Banner, digging his heels into the grass as the alien snarled in frustration.

“Go high!” he yelled.

Peter hurled himself into the air, swinging in a large arc around the park. He unleashed a barrage of rapid-fire web strikes, successfully blinding the alien. It roared again and stumbled, clawing at its own face, as Connor threw out a cascading arc of light with his hands. The energy struck the backs of the creature’s knees, and it stumbled, unbalanced. Before it could recover, Tony delivered a rocket-powered right hook to its jaw and sent it flying back into the fountain in the center of the park.

“You two, get back!” Tony ordered. To Connor’s astonishment, he conjured himself up a familiar-looking, disc-shaped shield and hurled it. As the alien got to its feet, the shield flew across the lawn like a giant Frisbee and struck it in the face. Before it could fall to the ground, Tony hit the shield with a repulsor blast, unleashing a shockwave of orange light which slammed into the alien’s back with concussive force. A pair of blinking lights flashed in Tony’s right gauntlet, and the shield flew back to him, clipping the back of the alien’s head for good measure. 

It charged, and Tony dove forward to meet it. But just as he blocked its hammer with his shield, a red blur shot between them, startling both combatants.

“Kid, that’s the wizard!” Tony yelled, as the alien repeatedly attempt to crush him. “Get on it! Goggles, you too!”

“On it!” Without hesitation, Peter webbed after the blur. Connor hesitated, then followed.

As he reached the edge of the park, an idea occurred to him. Aiming his fists at the ground, Connor fired twin bursts of energy from his hands, and launched himself into the air. He yelled, somewhat terrified by his newfound altitude, but as he neared the ground he fired again, bounding after Peter like a deranged grasshopper. Ahead, the other alien stood atop a mobile whirlwind of bricks, carving a path up 5th Avenue—

A billboard hurtled out of nowhere and struck Peter like a gigantic flyswatter. At the same time, as Connor neared the ground, a car flew directly into his path. He slammed into it painfully and hit the pavement below, hard. The car crashed down next to him, making his ears ring as he struggled to rise to his feet.

_ Ow… _

Ignoring the bruises and aches, Connor staggered to his feet. Across the intersection ahead of him, he could see Peter had recovered and was still swinging furiously after his target. Streetlights all around curled on their own accord, like grasping claws, until one finally snagged the wizard’s red cape. Like a ragdoll, he tumbled helplessly towards a hard landing—until two things happened.

One, Peter snagged him with a line of webbing, just moments before he could stain the ground.

Two, a pillar soft blue light materialized around the wizard, yanking him into the sky. Peter grabbed the nearest streetlight, muscles straining as he fought the pull of the tractor beam. Nearby, the telekinetic alien was watching with an air of annoyance. With a flick of its fingers, the streetlight was detached from the ground, and without a tether, Peter hurtled up into the sky after the wizard.

As Connor watched in horror, Peter’s voice flooded his ears through their shared communications channel.  _ “Uh, Mr. Stark? I’m being beamed up!” _

_ “Hang on kid!” _ Tony responded, but then his signal cut out with a burst of static. He was still fighting that behemoth.

Fear had paralyzed Connor, but as he watched Peter helplessly zoom higher and higher, the gravity of the situation suddenly pumped new vigor into him.

Peter was being  _ abducted. _

“NO!” he yelled, rocketing into the air. He landed clumsily on a rooftop near the tractor beam, and attempted to fly upward again. But just before he could be caught in the blue field, it vanished in the blink of an eye, and he tumbled back to earth.

He wrapped himself in a cocoon of light before he hit the ground, and rolled out of it in one fluid motion, turning his eyes to the sky helplessly. The spaceship was already rising away from the city—apparently, the aliens had gotten what they’d come for.

“PETER!”

Something caught his eye, and Connor’s heart leapt with desperate hope—Tony was streaking across the blue sky, arcing up after the ship.

_ “Give me a little juice, Friday!” _

Something shimmered near Tony’s feet—and then his speed multiplied exponentially, launching him farther and faster into the atmosphere.

_ “Unlock 17A!” _

Connor didn’t know what that was, but he hoped it was something that could catch the ship.

_ “Pete, you gotta let go, I’m gonna catch you.”  _

_ “But you said save the wizard!” _ Connor could hardly see the ship, it was a mere dot in the sky, but he heard the strain in his stupid boyfriend’s voice.  _ “I can’t breathe—” _

Then the connection cut out, leaving only himself and Tony on the channel—had he taken off his mask?

_ “You’re too high up, you’re running out of air.” _ Tony’s calm, focused tone contrasted violently with how faint Connor felt. He couldn’t see the Iron Man suit anymore. Everyone had disappeared above the clouds.

Two terrifying heartbeats passed. Then, the comm device in his ear beeped—a third signal had rejoined their call.

_ “Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!” _

Peter sounded breathless, and otherwise okay, but Connor needed someone to  _ tell _ him something. “Karen, what is happening?”

_ “Mr. Stark has deployed Item 17A, also known as the Iron Spider armor.” _

Iron Spider. Connor knew vaguely what it was—the armor Peter had turned down after Tony invited him to join the Avengers. Peter had to be safer in that than in his normal suit, right?

_ “Happy trails, kid. Friday, send him home.” _

Her Irish lilt briefly joined the conversation.  _ “Yep.” _

Then, abruptly, Peter yelled,  _ “OH, COME ON—” _

_ “Parachute deployed. Peter is returning to Earth,” _ Karen relayed, and the relief that crashed through Connor nearly knocked him to his knees. As it was, he did lean against the nearest car for support.

Peter was okay. He was coming back. He was  _ okay. _

“Where’s he gonna land?” The second he got ahold of him, Connor was going to give Peter the biggest hug of his life. He would let May do the scolding.

Karen did not answer.

Connor tapped the side of his helmet. “Hello?”

Static answered him. Then, faintly, he heard:  _ “Oh my God.” _

“Peter! Where are you?”

_ “Con, I—I got stuck.” _

At those words, ice plunged through his veins, freezing him where he stood. He didn’t even dare breathe.

_ “I-I didn’t mean to, I just thought—Mr. Stark can’t do this alone, and the suit—and—” _

Tony! He could kick Peter off. Desperate, Connor glanced at their channel, but to his dismay he only saw the two of them online. Tony was on a separate call, it seemed.

“No,” Connor whispered. “Come back. Peter. Come back  _ right now. _ Please...”

There was another burst of static. 

_ “I shoulda stayed on the bus,” _ Peter said mournfully, his voice distorted as the distance between them became more pronounced. 

“Peter, no,  _ please!” _

Then Peter’s signal vanished from his HUD.

_ “He is out of range,” _ Karen said softly.  _ “Friday is unable to contact Mr. Stark either. They are gone.” _

Silently, Connor leaned against the crumpled car, and cried.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to do.

Tony was gone. Peter was gone.

He really was lost without them, wasn’t he?

After letting his hysteria reach its climax and then die down, Connor picked himself up. He could hear sirens in the distance, and reporters would already be swarming the scene. He needed to be gone when they got here.

But the only thing he could think to do was retrace his footsteps, follow the battle’s progression back to its source. Maybe he could learn something.

Fifteen minutes later he was stumbling down Bleecker Street, staring at the ground in a daze, when he heard a voice.

“—have to find Vision, and protect him. Protect the Stone. I need you to understand, okay? Okay? This is it.” Banner sounded increasingly panicked, like he was working himself up to an anxiety attack. “This is why we formed the Avengers. I need you to come back, bring in everyone, it doesn’t  _ matter _ what happened between you and Tony, you—” He broke off, evidently listening to the other person reply. “No...no, Tony’s gone. The Time Stone, it got taken, and he went after it. I don’t think he’s coming back.” Another pause, and Connor rounded the corner onto Sullivan Street, where he could see Banner pacing back and forth anxiously. “No, I  _ know _ we don’t leave anyone behind, but Tony can take care of himself, and he’s got backup. He knows what’s at stake. That’s why he was going to call you. The best thing we can do for him is to make sure the Mind Stone is safe.”

Connor didn’t understand half of what he was saying, but to his ears he’d heard all he needed. Someone had a plan, and right now that was more than he could say. He wanted in.

Anything to get Peter and Tony back.

“Okay. Thank you. Call me as soon as you get ahold of Vision. I’ll...figure out how to get to this compound of yours. Yeah, you too. Good luck.” Banner snapped the phone shut.

“Hey!” Connor yelled.

Banner jumped, then stared at him, blinking uncomprehendingly. “Who—you’re one of Tony’s, right?”

“The compound you mentioned,” Connor said, ignoring the question. "I know where it is."

Banner raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t exactly known for his navigation skills, but Tony had once tried to kill him on the compound’s front lawn—that made the place hard to forget. “I can get you there. We just need a car. And  _ you _ can tell me about those stones you mentioned.”

* * *

There was a part of Bruce which still remained convinced he was dreaming.

It stubbornly refused to accept the past 24 hours. The Hulk coming face to face with Thanos and being beaten by him. Thor, Loki, and Heimdall all dead, maybe Valkyrie too. Crash-landing on Earth, seeing Tony again—he looked so much older now, much more haggard than the last time they’d been face-to-face. Hearing that the Avengers had disbanded.

And now he was driving a beat-up pickup truck on the upstate highway, with some random costumed acquaintance of Tony’s who was hell-bent on learning everything about Thanos and the Infinity Stones.

Connor, as he'd introduced himself,  _ seemed _ to take the information better than Bruce had expected. But it was hard to be sure what he was truly feeling at all, because he’d refused to take off his mask. After the explanation finished, they drifted into tense silence, only broken when Connor occasionally provided directions. Otherwise, he simply stared out the window, watching the outside world flash by.

This left Bruce with nothing but his own thoughts for company. Historically, that wasn’t always the best thing.

The Hulk had been completely quiet since briefly resurfacing in Washington Square Park. His silence was unnerving, as was his refusal to fight. Bruce wasn’t sure if it was a petulant act of defiance, if he felt used, or if he was sore over being bested by Thanos. Perhaps it was a combination.

His eyes flicked to the truck’s dashboard. They’d been running low on gas for the past few miles. With a sigh, he peeled off the interstate and into a rest stop, pulling into a small parking lot.

"I don't suppose you have any money, do you?" he asked. Then, as a hopeful afterthought, he added, "Or a phone?"

Connor gave him a brief look, then shook his head. "I left them in my ba—with a friend." Then he resumed staring out the window.

Right. Bruce sighed, and threw open the driver-side door, getting out. Time to do this the old-fashioned way. 

Back before Natasha Romanoff had lured him out of hiding in Kolkata, he'd obtained an eclectic collection of skills. Most of them were self-taught and all of them had been necessary to survive his multinational trips. One of these skills happened to be siphoning gas. He wouldn't have gotten very far without it.

The rest stop was sparsely populated, but there was an equipment shed around the back of the building. To his great fortune, it was unlocked. Seizing a small gas can and a tube, Bruce scurried back to the lot, trying to act as casual as was possible. 

There was a little Saturn next to his and Connor's truck. Kneeling down between the two vehicles, Bruce opened its gas port and fed the tube into the Saturn's tank. The rest of it was physics, really. Physics and probably brain damage, but he was supposed to have a healing factor, right?

He put the other end of the tube to his mouth and blew, listening for the sound of bubbles from inside the tank. Good. That meant the other end was submerged. 

He began to inhale deeply through his mouth, keeping a close eye on the tube as he did so, and exhaled out his nose. The process only took a few minutes to start—once the gas started flowing freely from the tube, he yanked it out of his mouth and threw it into the container, before any of the vile liquid could get in his mouth.

Suction would do the rest of the work. As Bruce waited, listening to the sound of gas filling up in the plastic can, he massaged his temples.

Finding Vision was only the first step. One way or another, this  _ would _ end with Thanos arriving on Earth. They needed to be ready for that confrontation. 

The problem was, they weren't. Not by a long shot.

The tube started making gasping noises, and Bruce pulled it free of the Saturn. Then he moved around to the driver-side of the truck and quickly poured the stolen gas inside. Then he threw the items into the truck's bed and flung open its door.

In the adjacent seat, Connor jumped violently, startled. His helmet had disappeared, giving Bruce an unobstructed view of his face for the first time.

He’d expected a college student, some young adult with the stubbornness and stamina required to work alongside the likes of Tony Stark. But the face staring back at him had not yet had its round, youthful edges hardened by manhood—Bruce was looking at a  _ boy, _ barely old enough to drive. His skin was a healthy, rich bronze and he had short dark hair which was already starting to fluff up, now that it had been freed from the helmet. Judging by the wet, red-rimmed state of his green eyes, he’d been crying while Bruce had left him alone.

"Um," he said, as Connor continued to stare at him, petrified. He didn’t  _ want _ to ask, but... "How  _ old _ are you?"

Silence fell between them, and for a second Bruce didn't think he would answer. "S-sixteen." He sniffed. "That was a neat trick. I watched you."

_ Oh, good job Bruce, _ he complimented himself derisively.  _ You siphoned gas in front of a minor. Next you should teach him how to rob ATMs. _

Unable to respond verbally just yet, he climbed inside the truck and turned the keys in the ignition. He put the truck in drive, and began pulling them out of the rest stop. They still had a way to go before they reached the compound.

However, he’d barely inched the truck out of the lot when Connor suddenly yelled, “STOP!”

Bruce slammed on the brakes, violently bouncing in his seat as the vehicle slammed to a halt. Adrenaline rushed through him, and it occurred to him that this was probably the first time in years he’d experienced a stress response without immediately turning into the Hulk. The sensation was bizarre.

“What? What is it?” he asked, leaning forward to peer at the sky through the windshield. There were no spaceships descending from the clouds, no angry aliens or purple genocidal warlords. “What’s happening?”

When he didn’t get an answer, Bruce glanced to his right, to ask again—but Connor was already throwing open his door. He shot out of the truck as if starting a marathon, running toward something lying on the ground several yards away. It looked like a piece of red fabric.

Relatively sure that they were safe from imminent death for the moment, Bruce shifted the truck back into park and watched Connor retrieve whatever had caught his attention. Then he turned and marched straight back, slowly climbing into his seat and buckling himself in.

“What’d you find?” Bruce asked, tentative yet curious.

Wordlessly, Connor held up his prize.

It wasn’t fabric, not really—it looked more like spandex. Another moment passed, and then Bruce recognized the mask. It was the same one that Spider-Man kid had been wearing. But how did it get here?

“He was outside the ship when it took off,” Connor said, answering the unvoiced question. “He couldn’t breathe. He must have taken the mask off, and dropped it.”

That made a little more sense. That high up in the atmosphere, where the winds were stronger, it could have traveled for miles in any direction before finally hitting the ground. It just happened to cross their path by mere chance.

Connor’s fingers tightened around the mask, and Bruce wasn’t sure whether that kind of luck was cruel or kind.

“I-I wasn’t  _ quick _ enough,” he whispered, choking on the words as they bubbled up from his throat. “What if he never comes home? What if he’s gone forever, and...and...”

If Tony were here, he’d probably respond with some kind of blunt but well-meaning tough love. If Steve were here, he’d say something inspiring and hopeful. But Bruce, he really did  _ not _ know what to do. He couldn’t make any promises. There was no room for probability when it came to Thanos—things were or they weren’t, and oftentimes you were helpless to stop them. But as Connor crumbled apart before his eyes, he knew he had to say something,  _ anything, _ to keep him going.

What would  _ Thor _ say?

“I did.” 

Silence fell briefly in the truck, as Connor stared at him. “What?”

“I-I came back,” Bruce continued, hoping he wouldn’t trip over his own words. He fidgeted in his seat, trying project out what he hoped was reassurance. “One minute the Hulk is fighting robots in Sokovia, and the next he’s taking the Quinjet for a joyride. I didn’t even know that I wasn’t on Earth anymore, until Thor found me on Sakaar, and that was a  _ weird _ place. Slavers, hedonistic dictators, giant deadly celestial phenomena…” He started ticking items off with his fingers. “Then we got to Asgard and Thor’s sister tried to kill us, there was an army of zombies, I fought a wolf the size of a house, everything was on fire and the whole world ended up exploding—”

Connor’s eyes had enlarged to the size of dinner plates, and belatedly Bruce realized that this was not the sort of thing he needed to hear.

“My point,” he hurried on, “is anything is possible. I don’t know anything about...about Spider-Man—”

“Peter.”

“—about  _ Peter, _ but Tony trusted him enough to watch his back. That has to be for a reason, right?”

That made Connor’s lips twitch, but he still looked doubtful. “It’s not  _ Peter _ I don’t trust. It’s everything else up there with him. But he  _ is _ pretty good at the superhero gig...”

Impulsively, Bruce suggested, “Tell me about him. How’d you two meet?”

He received a few blinks in response. “Really? It’s kinda a long story.”

“We still have a drive to finish, and honestly, I’m not that great with silence.”

Connor nodded, and Bruce changed gears, accelerating them out of the rest stop.

He took a little bit to get some momentum, but after warming up, the whole story spilled out as if from a bursting dam. Connor had met Peter as an Inner Demon—a transient group of Extremis-powered child soldiers. Bruce remembered Tony telling him about Extremis, though he hadn’t mentioned it could produce abilities like Connor’s. When he asked for more details, Connor tentatively explained how the Inner Demons’ master, Negative, had vastly augmented Extremis from its original form. Then he surreptitiously administered it to dozens of New York’s homeless. Those who survived, like Connor, were then molded into the Inner Demons.

This left Bruce with more questions than he’d started out with—chief among them, why had Connor been homeless? But he let the story continue, not wanting to deviate further.

Circumstance forced Connor and Peter to work together one night, and after that they slowly started to bond. He defected from Negative, allied with Tony and Peter, and started building himself a new life. He and Peter got together not long after that. However, Negative never forgot Connor’s rebellion, and eventually hunted them down. Even with Tony helping the boys, he nearly succeeded in killing all three of them. But they survived by the skin of their teeth, defeating him and the Inner Demons in the process. After that, they had enjoyed their hard-won peace...until today.

After finishing the story, Connor’s mood changed slightly. He seemed to come out of his shell a little more, and regaled Bruce with more light-hearted tales of Peter and his aunt May, their friends Ned and MJ, and even Tony. The boys were students at Midtown, Bruce’s old high school, of all places.

“Wow,” he said, as they entered the compound’s long, curved driveway. “That’s...wow. A lot.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen crazier stuff than that,” Connor remarked good-naturedly. There sounded like less tension in his voice, compared to when he’d first started talking about Peter.

“Well...yeah,” Bruce admitted, pulling the truck to a stop outside the building. He switched the vehicle off and exited, stretching his stiff back. As he did, the compound’s doors flew open.

“Bruce!” Rhodey shouted, running out to greet him. “Thank God. Pepper called me hours ago, the news is going crazy over what happened in New York, and she didn’t know how to get ahold of you—Connor? What are you doing here?”

“He was there too,” Bruce explained quickly. “We came as quickly as we could. I called Steve, he’s gonna reach out to us as soon as he finds Vision. Rhodey, listen. Tony—”

Rhodey's response was swift and decisive. “Tony will be fine. He’s got Peter with him, and those two are unstoppable together.”

He said the words with such conviction that Bruce actually believed them, for a moment—even despite what he’d seen on the  _ Statesman. _

“Yeah,” Connor agreed, approaching the two adults. “They’re idiots, but like, they’re  _ highly competent _ idiots.”

The smile on his face was small and confident, but when he turned it on Bruce, his eyes conveyed a different message.  _ Thank you. _

“Right,” Rhodey said, satisfied. “In the meantime, you need to clue me in and we need to talk about the next step. Come on inside, you two.”

* * *

Peter was in space.

He was in  _ outer space. _

This was not good. No, it was amazing. No, it was  _ terrifying. _

He’d barely had time to relay his situation to Connor before the spaceship had rocketed off into parts unknown, leaving Earth far behind. Karen and Connor’s signals cut out instantly, leaving him alone in the Iron Spider armor.

Which was  _ incredible, _ he’d quickly realized. A suit made entirely of nanotech, intuitively responding to his thoughts as far as he could conjure them. The HUD was a soft silver, rather than the blue-white glow of his old suit’s, and there were thousands upon thousands of web-shooter combinations hidden away in its databanks. If he wasn’t in hostile territory he’d be sorely tempted to sit back and immerse himself in everything the suit had to offer.

But he had to find the wizard. He had to get  _ home. _

The access port he’d hidden himself away led inside the ship, through one of the spinning turbines—he’d managed to web it stuck long enough to slip past the death trap, but only barely. Now he was crawling along the ceiling of the ship’s massive, one-room interior, trying to plan his next move.

Then, a voice issued up from below, “In all the time I have served Thanos, I have never failed him.”

Peter glanced down. Directly below him was a long walkway leading to a what looked like a set of steering gimbals, surrounded by hard light constructs which  _ might _ be navigational data, but the technology was so advanced he really couldn’t be sure. Further down the walkway, back toward the walk, floated the wizard helplessly. Dozens of large, foot-long needles hovered around him, and directly in front of him stood the creepy alien with the psychic powers, the one who had thrown a billboard at him.

“If I were to reach our rendezvous on Titan with the Time Stone still attached to your vaguely irritating person,” the alien continued, his voice oozing smarminess and barely-controlled fury. “There would be…judgment.”

The eyepieces in his suit magnified the scene, allowing a closer view, and Peter saw one of the needles slip into the wizard’s cheek, much deeper than it should have been able to go.

“Give me. The Stone,” the alien hissed.

Okay, okay. Peter had to do something. He had to save the wizard. He—

A familiar whine caught his ear, and his head whipped around to look at the source. On an elevated platform, off to his left, Tony was leveling a repulsor at the wizard’s disembodied wed cloak.

“Wow, you are one seriously loyal piece of outerwear,” his mentor mused, as Peter scrambled over to him across the ceiling and lowered himself down via a webline.

“Yeah, speaking of loyalty…” he murmured, detaching from the line and dropping to the platform. As he did so, Tony’s face morphed into an almost comical expression of shock.

“What the—”

Crap. Crap. “I know what you’re gonna say,” Peter began, raising his hands placatingly. It was very important that Tony  _ not _ freak out.

“You should not be here—”

“I was gonna go home—”

“—I don’t wanna hear it—”

“—but it was such a long way down, and I just thought about you on the way—”

“—and now I gotta hear it—”

“—and kinda stuck to the side of the ship!” Peter continued on. He was talking much faster than Tony, trying to get out as many words as he could before his mentor recovered from the aneurysm he seemed to be developing. “And this suit is  _ ridiculously _ intuitive, by the way—”

“God damn it,” Tony muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“—so if anything, it’s kinda  _ your _ fault that I’m here—” Peter’s jaw slammed shut as soon as those words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant anything  _ bad _ by that, but the way Tony’s gaze snapped back to his face told him there was a line and he had, in fact, crossed it. Even the wizard’s cloak seemed to disapprove, floating behind Tony like a stern parent.

“What did you just say?” he challenged, pointing at Peter accusingly.

“I-I take that back! A-and now I'm here in space, and—"

"Yeah," Tony overrode him, stepping closer. "Right where I didn't want you to be. Where  _ Connor _ doesn't want you to be. This isn't Coney Island, it's not even Negative and the Inner Demons. This is a one way ticket! You hear me? Don't pretend you thought this through."

Indignation shot through Peter—mixed with a little shame. "I  _ did _ think this through!"

Tony huffed. "No, you didn't."

"I did!"

"You could not have  _ possibly _ thought—"

"You can't be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if there's no neighborhood!"

Silence fell as Tony faltered, staring at Peter with his mouth slightly open. The only other expression on his face was in his eyes—a mixture of exasperation and reluctant understanding.

The other unspoken argument hung in the air between them. What right did Tony have to send him away, when Pepper wanted him back just as much as Connor wanted Peter?

“Okay, that didn’t really make sense, but—”

“Crazy thing is, it did,” Tony murmured. He let out a shaky breath, then said, “Come on, we got a situation.”

With things temporarily defused, Peter joined him at the edge of the platform. Together, they glanced down at the wizard and the alien.

“See him down there? He’s in trouble, what’s your plan?” Tony asked. It was an obvious test—Peter knew he'd proven his mettle against Toomes and Negative, but if he was going to run with the big guns he needed to be more proactive than just hitting anything that tried to kill him. “Go.”

“Um...” Peter crouched, his eyes scanned the length of the room again, taking in the outer hull on either side of the alien. “Okay, okay, uh… Okay.” Then he stood up, and quirked an eyebrow at Tony. “You ever see this really old movie,  _ Aliens?” _

* * *

Blowing out the airlock—or in this case,  _ creating _ one—wasn’t exactly the most original of plans, considering he’d ripped it directly from Hollywood, but Peter hadn’t  _ actually _ expected it to go off without a hitch.

As Tony patched up the hole he’d blown in the side of the ship, Peter landed on the walkway and the mechanical, nano-crystalline arms—which were so  _ fucking _ cool—folded into his back, he glanced at the wizard’s cloak on his right and held out a hand. “Hey! We haven’t officially met!”

Despite it not having eyes, the cloak somehow managed to regard him balefully before floating off to its master.

“Cool,” Peter said lamely, his good mood not entirely undeterred. The plan had  _ worked. _

“We gotta turn the ship around,” the wizard declared, heaving out gasps of fresh air as he rubbed his arm and shivered—even a few seconds of exposure to space must have chilled him to the bone.

“Yeah, now he wants to run,” Tony snarked, as the nanotech around his body melted back into the softly glowing housing unit on his chest. “Great plan.”

“No, I want to protect the stone,” the wizard shot back, rising to Tony’s condescension without flinching.

But the Avenger already had his back turned, and was instead examining the navigational holograms at the front of the ship. “And I want you to thank me. Now, go ahead, I’m listening.”

“For what? Nearly blasting me into space?”

Okay, so apparently the wizard had no respect for classic films. Good to know.

“Who just saved your magical ass?” Tony demanded, whirling around to face him. “Me!”

He shook his head, and said incredulously, “I seriously don’t know how you fit your head inside that helmet.”

“Admit it!” Tony was getting more and more worked up—Peter had known him long enough by now to be able to see the signs. Wisely, he kept his distance, while the wizard, unwisely, did not and continued advancing toward him. “You should have ducked out when I told you to! I tried to bench you, you refused.”

The wizard scoffed. “Unlike everyone else in your life, I don’t work for you.”

“And  _ due to that fact _ we’re now in a flying donut, billions of miles from Earth, with no backup—”

“I’m backup!” Peter interjected.

Tony shut him down immediately, but without malice. "No. You’re a stowaway. The adults are talking.”

Peter huffed.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here,” their red-cloaked companion said exasperatedly, glancing back and forth between them before finally settling on Tony. “Who  _ is _ he, your son?”

For the first time since they’d started throwing barbs at each other, Tony did not have one to fire back. He just stared at the wizard, a muscle clenching in his jaw.

“No!” Peter answered quickly—he’d already dealt with enough rumors of Spider-Man being Iron Man’s secret long-lost heir. He stepped forward, extending a hand. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Doctor Strange,” Strange replied, looking somewhat mystified.

“Oh.” Peter dropped the offered limb and straightened his back, as if standing at attention. “We’re using our made-up names. I’m Spider-Man, then.”

Strange stared at him for another moment, then scoffed and turned back toward Tony.

“This ship is self-correcting its course,” he was saying, back to examining the controls. “Thing’s on autopilot.”

“Can we control it? Fly us home?” Strange asked.

Tony didn’t respond. He was pacing, his brow furrowed, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Stark!”

He stopped, blinking at the other man as if just realizing he was there. “Yeah?”

Peter could hear Strange’s teeth grinding together as he spoke. “Can you get us home?”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Tony said dismissively, and continued pacing. “Only...I’m not so sure we should.”

As that statement was digested, Peter realized what he meant by it a fraction of a second before Strange did.

“Under no circumstances can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos!” he declared loudly, scathingly. “I don’t think you quite understand—”

“What?” Tony paused again, this time marching right up to Strange and poking him in the chest. “No! It’s  _ you _ who doesn’t understand that Thanos has been inside my head—for  _ six _ years—since he sent an army to New York, and now he’s back! And I don’t know what to do!”

His voice rose to a shout, and Peter wanted to intervene, to tell Strange to back off, but he didn’t know if that would help anything.

But then Tony grew quieter, more desperate, but no less assertive. “So I’m not so sure if it’s a better plan to fight him on our turf, or his, but you  _ saw _ what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf he’s not expecting it. So  _ I _ say we take the fight to him, Doctor. Do you concur?”

Strange stared at him for several moments, mulling the words over.

Logically, Peter felt like it would be a better plan to return to Earth, where the rest of the Avengers were and where they would possibly have more time to plan a defense. But at the same time...he understood Tony’s reasoning. He couldn’t help but think of six months ago, when Negative and the Inner Demons had sprung their trap. They’d used the element of surprise to deadly effect—if it weren’t for Peter’s Hail Mary, he would have died, along with Connor and Tony. They'd be rotting at the bottom of the East River. 

Tony had spent most of that final battle helplessly watching—he could understand why now, he wouldn’t want to wait for Thanos to come to them.

“Alright, Stark,” Strange decided, reluctantly. “We go to him. But you  _ have _ to understand—if it comes to saving you, or the kid, or the Time Stone, I will not  _ hesitate _ to let either of you die. I  _ can’t, _ because the universe depends on it.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed a little, but he clapped Strange on the arm. “Nice. Good, moral compass. We’re straight.”

Then he turned and brushed past him, approaching Peter. Looking wearier than ever, he crossed his arm over Peter’s shoulders as if knighting him with a sword. “Alright kid. You’re an Avenger now.”

As Tony left, presumably to examine more of the ship, Peter tried to reign in the giddy smile threatening to creep its way onto his face.

For better or worse, he was an  _ Avenger. _

* * *

Connor wondered if Bruce was tired of repeating the same story to everyone—who Thanos was, what he wanted, and why he was sending his forces to Earth. 

Rhodey took the news without blinking, something which awed him. He’d had his mask on in the truck, when Bruce had told him about the Infinity Stones, but beneath its surface he’d been quaking with fear. Thanos’ monstrous goals made Negative’s ambition seem like a party trick.

As much as he appreciated Bruce calming him down after he’d worked himself up over Peter’s safety, he did not want to hear anything else about Thanos unless he had to. So while Bruce filled Rhodey in inside the compound’s command center, he floated around the rest of the building restlessly.

He got as far as the kitchen and was debating on making himself some hot chocolate, when Karen’s voice buzzed in his ear.  _ “Connor?” _

He winced—she sounded more staticky than usual—and his helmet came to life, unfolding around his head. “Yeah? What’s up?”

_ “I believe we have a problem.” _ The suit’s HUD flickered concerningly.  _ “My programming is supposed to reside with Spider-Man, but when Peter left the range of Earth’s satellites, I was forced down the only available channel—yours. However, your suit was only designed to communicate with a user-interface program, not house one entirely. My presence is beginning to cause complications.” _

Pieces of the armor on Connor’s forearm sparked, making him jump. A small tuft of smoke wafted up from the tech, and his HUD went completely dark. His chestplate began to heat up, uncomfortably, as his helmet suddenly retracted, disappearing into the suit’s collarbone.

“Okay, um...” He looked around wildly, as if there was a helpful Fix The Advanced Technology button which would magically make the problem go away. He wasn’t a genius like Tony or Peter, he had no idea how to do maintenance stuff. “Yep, I definitely don’t know what to do.”

_ “Find Mr. Stark’s lab. There is a solution there.” _

The entrance to it was near the kitchen, and Connor hurried down the steps, taking them two at a time. When he reached the lab’s door, however, he stopped. Tony normally kept it locked when he wasn’t around, and Connor didn’t know if he had authorization to enter.

_ “You must request Item 4C from Friday.” _

“Uh…” He squinted at the electronic lock, then asked, “Friday, unlock Item 4C?”

IDENTITY REQUIRED, the lock read.

“Um...Connor Tanyard?”

ACCESS DENIED.

_ “Excuse _ me?”

Friday’s Irish lilt echoed from speakers in the ceiling.  _ “In the event of Boss’ unexpected absence or incapacitation, only those with Alpha-level security clearance may access the lab.” _

Great. Whether it was intentional or an oversight on Tony’s part, he knew he  _ definitely _ didn’t have that designation. Lab time was for Peter and his mentor—Connor only ever came down here if they needed him for something. He bit his lip. Maybe Rhodey could open the door? “Okay, uh...who has Alpha-level whatever?”

_ “I cannot divulge that information.” _

“Of course you can’t. Um...”

“Banner,” a voice said from behind him, and Connor jumped. Bruce was standing at the foot of the stairs, watching him with a curious look in his eyes.

ACCESS GRANTED, the lock read. WELCOME, STRONGEST AVENGER.

Bruce rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face. Then he gestured at Connor. “After you.”

“Thanks,” Connor said quietly, shuffling into the lab. “Where’s Rhodey?”

Bruce’s face pinched. “Gen—I mean, Secretary Ross called, so he’s dealing with that. I didn’t think I should stay in the room. Steve found Vision, by the way—just in time, from the sound of it. They’ll be here soon.” Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around fondly. “Y’know, it’s my first time in this building, but...it already feels so familiar. Especially here. Reminds me of the lab back in the tower, before...before Ultron.”

Right. Connor remembered Peter telling him that the psychotic AI’s creation had been a combined effort. He wasn’t really sure what to say in response.

But Bruce, it seemed, wasn’t interested in continuing the dialogue. He crossed the lab and examined a workbench, which was strewn with papers and bits of half-constructed circuitry. “Well, some things never change. Tony still leave a mess wherever he goes.”

“Actually,” Connor said, joining him. He recognized some of the scribbles. “This is Peter’s handwriting. And Peter’s mess.”

Bruce’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he looked at the notes with a newfound respect. “Yeah? He’s one smart kid, then.”

_ “Item 4C, as requested,” _ Friday called, drawing their attention. The pair of them turned around. A panel had opened up in the floor, and a large cylinder was rising up from beneath.

The glass case slid open, and Connor stared dumbly at its contents.

He knew Tony had called the first iteration of his suit Item 1C. He expected 4C to be an upgraded version—but inside the case, there was only a small a small square-shaped object, no bigger than a floppy disk and slightly thicker. Its perimeter was black, and the interior emitted a soft, white glow.

Slowly, Connor reached out and plucked the device from its pedestal. The cylinder sunk back into the floor.

_ “Initiating transfer,” _ Karen said, and the square briefly blinked brighter. The heat around Connor’s neck disappeared, and he deactivated his armor, quickly shedding the necklace.  _ “Transfer complete. That is much better. Thank you.” _

Now her voice was coming from the square. Connor stared at it, a little stunned, and then managed out, “You’re welcome.”

“Tony’s really upped his game,” Bruce commented. “He had one of those things on his chest. Just tapped it a little and bam, instant armor.”

Connor hummed in response, lost in thought. He drifted over to a desk chair beside the workbench, and sat down in it, his eyes still glued to the square. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what this device would do. Tony wasn’t above extravagant gifts, but...Connor had been pretty clear about not wanting to be a superhero, hadn’t he?

Suiting up had been necessary back when Negative was trying to kill them—they’d been fighting for their lives. But now that conflict was over, and Connor left the mantle of Animus behind.

Did he really want to take up another?

“Connor?” A hand gripped his shoulder gently. Bruce had followed him, concerned. “You alright?”

“I...I don’t know.” He swallowed, and said, “I don’t know what I want.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

In response, he indicated Tony’s workbench. “In one of those drawers behind me is a cure for Extremis. Tony made it for me after we defeated Negative. But I didn’t take it, because my powers were the  _ reason _ Peter and I survived that battle. Maybe that meant they were worth keeping after all. But that doesn’t mean I  _ want _ to be a superhero, or an Avenger, or anything. I don't know if I do.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, and Connor glanced up to meet his eyes. A weary kind of kinship stared back at him, and Connor realized that as the Hulk, he probably understood that more than anyone else.

“Peter’s never going to  _ not _ be Spider-Man, and I love that about him even though it stresses me out sometimes,” he continued on, turning the square over and over in his hands. “But...but I...”

“You don’t know if you want the same thing,” Bruce guessed, knowingly. “And that makes you feel guilty.”

He gave a jerky nod. Bruce knelt down in front of him, so that they were at eye level. Then he let go of Connor’s shoulder and offered the hand, palm up. “May I?”

He passed the device over without argument.

“You know, I’ve tried so hard to get rid of the Hulk,” Bruce commented, examining the square curiously. “A part of me still wants him gone. Tony used to tell me he was around for a reason, and I’m  _ still _ not sure I believe that. When I was in space, I didn’t want to fight Thor’s sister. I didn’t want  _ anything _ to do with Asgard. But going with him was better than staying on Sakaar. And then...”

“Then?”

“There were people in danger,” was the simple reply. “The Hulk could save them, so he did.  _ We _ did.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep. Just like that.”

Silence fell, and lingered for several moments as Connor mulled over those words.

“Peter and Tony have inspired me to be better,” he declared suddenly, causing Bruce to raise an eyebrow at him. “But they’re not here anymore, and without them I feel...directionless. Like I don’t know who I am or what the right decisions are.”

To his surprise, Bruce chuckled. He couldn’t tell if it was sardonic, or genuine amusement. “None of us know. We’re just good at pretending otherwise. All we can do is our best. So,  _ if _ the time comes and you need to make a decision...” 

He made to give the device back, but Connor just gave it a dubious look, as if it might come to life and eat him.

“Take it,” Bruce urged, softly. “Just in case. And do your best.”

Slowly, he reached out and plucked it from the offered hand.

_ “Dr. Banner,” _ Friday interrupted.  _ “Captain Rogers has arrived.” _

“Thank God.” Bruce stood up, relief crossing over his expression. “Ready to go?”

Connor nodded, and followed him out.

* * *

On the way to the command center, Connor heard the voices before he saw who they belonged to. The first one was electronic, as if over a radio or phone—the speaker wasn’t in the room.

_ “Still no word from Vision?” _

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh,” was Rhodey’s short response.

_ “And on a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals!” _

Ahead of him, Bruce froze in his tracks, throwing out a hand behind him to stop Connor as well. Undeterred, he slipped past, poking his head around the corner to peer into the room.

“You know they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir?” Rhodey stood off to the left, and was pointing at the caller with a pen in his hand. Connor followed his gaze, and started as he took in the large hologram of a long, ovular table. There were several important-looking men sitting around it, but the only one paying attention to Rhodey was an elderly man with a mustache and receding hairline. 

_ “My God, Rhodes,” _ he said derisively, rolling his eyes.  _ “Your talent for horseshit rivals my own.” _

“If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would have been right here!” Rhodey shot back. Evidently the situation had been heated long before Connor and Bruce had arrived.

“Is that Ross?” Connor whispered. This was the guy in charge of registering anyone with powers?

Bruce’s quiet response held a surprising amount of contempt in it. “Yes.”

Ross stood up, walking around the table, and Connor wondered how much range the hologram had. Could he move around the whole compound?

_ “I remember your signature on those papers, Colonel.” _

Ross was taller than Rhodey, trying to stare him down, but the Avenger did not even flinch. He stepped forward to meet the Secretary halfway, the mechanical braces around his legs whirring as went.

“That’s right,” he said, crossing his arms defiantly. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve paid for that.”

There was a pause, as hostility crackled live a live wire between the two of them.

_ “By the way,” _ Ross began, a hint of a threat manifesting in his tone.  _ “Down in the Raft, Martin Li insists you’re harboring one of his soldiers. It’s about the only thing he’s said for the past six months. Now, Stark won’t return any of my calls, but you, Colonel Rhodes...I know you’re a man of honor, and of the law. So you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? An unregistered enhanced, a criminal, hiding in the Avengers’ own backyard?” _

Connor tensed. Behind him, Bruce let out an indignant huff.

“Not a damn clue,” Rhodey replied, with zero hesitation. Then, as an afterthought: “But even if I did know something, Mr. Secretary, I’m not sure I’d tell you.”

Ross’ eyebrows rose.  _ “You have second thoughts?” _

“Not anymore.”

Something chimed overhead, and the pair glanced down the hall. On the other side of the room, opposite the hall Connor and Bruce were lurking in, a pair of doors opened. Through them, stepped five individuals.

He didn't need to be introduced—Connor recognized them all instantly. Through the blackened, battle-worn uniform, he could still see the imprint of a silver star insignia on Steve Rogers’ chest. The woman at his side, despite her short, blonde hair, was unmistakably Natasha Romanoff. Behind them, Vision was being supported upright by the Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff.

“Mr. Secretary.” Though he didn’t look at Ross, Steve inclined his head very slightly, and Connor was impressed by the amount of sass in that simple gesture. It was  _ technically _ polite, but also entirely dismissive—he had nothing to say to the man.

Ross stared at him in open-mouthed shock.  _ “You’ve got some nerve,” _ he said, approaching them. But for all his swagger, it fell flat on the rogue Avengers.  _ "I’ll give you that.” _

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. “You could use some of that right now.”

_ “The world is on fire,” _ Ross continued, disbelievingly.  _ “And you think all is forgiven?” _

Finally, Steve deigned to look Ross in the eye. His bearded face looked like it had been carved from stone. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So we’re here to fight, and if you wanna stand in our way, we’ll fight you too.”

Silence fell as everyone digested those words. Then, Ross turned to Rhodey and ordered,  _ “Arrest them.” _

“All over it.” With a wave of his hand, the call ended and Ross vanished along with the other men at the table. Then, he shrugged. “Well, that’s a court martial.”

Steve’s lips twitched, but Rhodey was the one to break the ice. He stepped forward, offering a hand, which was almost immediately seized as the two embraced each other. “It’s great to see you, Cap.”

“You too, Rhodey.”

“Hey,” he added as Natasha came in for a hug. Then he stepped back, and eyed everyone. “Wow. You guys...really look like crap. Must have been a rough couple of years.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five-star.”

“Uh, I think you look great!” Connor jumped as Bruce hurried past him, stepping out into the open, though he stopped several feet short of the group. He wrung his hands together, bouncing on the balls of his feet. This was the most nervous Connor had ever seen him. “Uh… Yeah, I’m back.”

Wanda gave him an awkward little wave from the back.

“Hi, Bruce,” Romanoff greeted. Then she tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Who’s your friend?”

Crap. Knowing he’d been caught, Connor slunk out from around the corner, stepping into the command center after Bruce.

“Oh, right,” Rhodey piped up, before anyone else could speak. “Remember Spider-Man, back in Germany? The red and blue guy?”

“Queens?” Rogers asked, looking surprised. “Younger than I thought you’d be.”

“You shot me full of webs,” Sam accused, but when Connor paled, he tried to backtrack. “Wait, no, it’s okay—”

“Spider-Man is my boyfriend!” he blurted out. “I’m, uh...I’m Connor.”

“Oh.” Sam exchanged a look with Vision, who seemed to be watching the whole exchange very calmly for someone with multiple stab wounds to his torso. “This is awkward.”

* * *

After Wanda stabilized Vision a little more with her powers, everyone retired to the lounge area. It was a seldom-used room in the compound, with an open floor with a little kitchen in one corner, opposite a group of several armchairs. Between the two was a small dining table. Connor scurried over to one of the armchairs, not really sure where to position himself but keen on being unnoticed. Natasha, Rhodey, Bruce, Sam, and Steve formed a loose semicircle around the table, while Vision drifted over to a window near the kitchen, gazing out of it. Wanda kept close to him, her arms tightly crossed as if she were trying to console herself. Upon Rhodey’s request, Friday projected imagery of four aliens—the two he’d seen in New York, and two others he didn’t recognize.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s them,” Bruce said, gesturing to the first pair. “They call themselves the Children of Thanos. That’s Ebony Maw, and Cull Obsidian, the ones that went after Strange. And these two—” He pointed at the others, a horned female and an elvish-looking male. They were depicted standing over Vision, trying to pry the Mind Stone from his forehead. “—Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive.”

Connor’s gaze remained fixed on the image as Rhodey said, “So we gotta assume they’re coming back, right?”

“And they can clearly find us,” Maximoff added.

Bruce nodded. “We need all hands on deck. Where’s Clint?”

“After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal,” Natasha explained. “It was too tough on their families. They’re on house arrest.”

“Who’s Scott?”

“Ant-Man,” Steve answered. His stoic expression was nearly unreadable, and Connor found it difficult to identify this rugged, battle-scarred man as history’s famous Star-Spangled Avenger.

“There’s an Ant-Man  _ and _ a Spider-Man?” Bruce shook his head, and started pacing. “Okay, look. Thanos has the biggest army in the  _ universe, _ and he not gonna stop until he—he gets…” He faltered, then finished quietly, “Vision’s stone.”

“Well, then we have to protect it,” Nastasha said matter-of-factly, as if the homicidal aliens weren’t even a blip on her radar.

“No, we have to destroy it.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped to Vision. He turned away from the window, his synthetic face pensive. Then his gaze drifted over to Wanda

“I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head,” he continued, stepping toward her. “About its nature, but also its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something  _ very _ similar to its own signature, perhaps...its molecular integrity could fail.”

“Yeah, and you with it,” Wanda said quietly, as he laid a hand on her arm. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Eliminating the Stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can’t get it,” Vision insisted.

But she shook her head, her eyes suspiciously bright. “That’s too high a price.”

The android reached up to cup her face in his hands, a tender gesture which contrasted sharply with the gravity of his words.

“Only you have the power to pay it.”

Steve shifted, and Connor focused on him for a moment, distracted.

During the final battle against Negative, Connor’s powers had undergone an intense metamorphosis. The energy he wielded was stronger now, more stable, and his empathic abilities had magnified. He no longer needed physical contact to read a person—he simply had to reach out while in their presence. This new augmentation came with its own side effects, however. Sometimes, he read people without meaning to, especially if they happened to be feeling something particularly strongly.

Vision’s words seemed to have triggered something in Steve, because his mask of a neutral emotion had fallen, revealing what lay underneath. Sympathy rolled off him in waves, but beneath that Connor detected nostalgia, and  _ heartbreak. _ It was an aching longing which penetrated bone-deep, past the layers of duty and responsibility he had wrapped around himself.

It was the kind of grief reserved only for the worst of tragedies—that which one inflicted upon themselves.

Meanwhile Wanda, struck by Vision’s words, turned away from him.

He was asking her to  _ kill _ him, Connor realized belatedly. There was a cold logic to the idea that he couldn’t deny—their advantage right now was that Thanos wasn’t actively attacking them, but that wouldn’t last. 

Her refusal was understandable. It was even worse that, according to Vision,  _ she _ was the only person who could do it. If Peter had asked the same thing of him, he wouldn’t be able to do it. There was no hypothetical scenario where he could see himself agreeing to that plan.

And yet, he remembered being in Vision’s situation—when he’d sacrificed himself without hesitation. That had been easy.

“Thanos threatens half the universe,” Vision countered softly. “One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him.”

“But it should,” Steve spoke up. He was shaking his head softly, a muscle clenching in his jaw as he made a decision. “We don’t trade lives, Vision.”

Vision pivoted where he stood, immediately facing him. “Captain, 70 years ago you laid down your life to save how many millions of people. Tell me, why is this any different?”

“Because,” Bruce interjected, his eyes gleaming as if struck by inspiration. “You might have a choice. Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays—Jarvis, Ultron, Tony, me, the Stone. All of them mixed together, all of them learning from one another.”

Wanda leaned back against the kitchen counter behind her, hope flickering across her face. “You’re saying Vision isn’t just the Stone?”

“I’m saying that, if we take out the Stone, there’s still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts!” Bruce suggested. The possibility of a deathless solution was dangerous, infectious, and it spread throughout the room like wildfire.

“Can we do that?” Natasha asked.

Bruce paused, evidently coming to a halt. Then, he quietly admitted, “Not me, not here.”

“Well you better find someone and somewhere fast,” Rhodey warned, shaking his head. “Ross isn’t just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back.”

Connor had absolutely no idea. The best people he knew for the job were currently off-planet. Did someone smarter than Tony Stark even  _ exist? _

“I know somewhere,” Steve said. “Wakanda.”

“Seriously?” All eyes turned on Sam, who was fixing them with raised eyebrows. “You always said Wakanda was a no-fly zone. If we go there, they could track us.”

“We’ve got more important things than Ross to worry about, Sam.”

“Wait.” Bruce was frowning, as if staring at a difficult math problem. “Where...where Ultron’s vibranium came from? I thought Wakanda was a third world country.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, man,” Rhodey said, clapping him on the back. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you up to speed.” He glanced at Steve. “You’re sure?”

He nodded.

“Alright, then. You know where the armory is. Get whatever gear you need.”

Just like that, the group began to disperse. The rogue Avengers left, filtering out of the room all at once, but Bruce and Rhodey remained behind.

“If a fight breaks out, you know we’re gonna be the heavy hitters, right?” Rhodey asked. “You up for that?”

“Uh...” Bruce scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think we should count on the Hulk.”

Rhodey grinned. “I’m asking  _ you, _ Bruce. Don’t worry about the Hulk. I have you covered.” Then he caught sight of Connor, who was still watching them from his armchair. “Hey, kid. You ready to head out?”

_ Wait, what? _ Connor blinked at the two of them, incredulous. Since when was he involved?

Evidently, Bruce was thinking along the same lines, because he said a little testily, “Connor didn’t sign up for this.”

“I  _ know _ that,” Rhodey replied patiently. “But for the first time in two years Ross knows exactly where Steve Rogers is. Very soon this place is gonna be full of guys with guns, and they’re not gonna care if he’s involved or not.”

“He’s right,” Connor agreed reluctantly. It was true—staying here meant getting arrested, and he wasn’t about to ask the Avengers to make a pit stop at May’s to let him off. Too much was at stake for them to waste time. “You’re stuck with me.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped slightly, accepting defeat. Connor was touched that he seemed to care so much, though.

Meanwhile, Rhodey just nodded. “Quinjet leaves in ten. Don’t be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 1! Thoughts so far? I'm trying to balance scenes which I transcribed from the movie, and scenes which I created in my own. I don't want this to be a complete recap of IW, because that would be boring.
> 
> And what do you think of Bruce? He and Connor weren't originally meant to bond, but I realized they have a few similarities and also they both could use a positive parent/child relationship...though it will take some development before they're ready to call it that.
> 
> Next part will be up in a day or two. See you for now!


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Originally I had planned to publish the whole thing all at once, but I find a 26k oneshot to be hard on the eyes.
> 
> Enjoy.

Peter was reasonably sure that they were all doomed.

Crashing onto the surface of Titan wasn’t really as bad as he’d expected, even though their ship had fractured into at least three big pieces.  _ Technically _ that meant they were stranded on a planet which looked like it had suffered an Apocalypse several hundred years ago, but that had nothing to do with their current predicament.

No, the source of Peter’s pessimistic prediction was the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Almost immediately after landing, they had been attacked by a small group of aliens—or, aliens and one human. The situation quickly deescalated after all parties realized they shared a common enemy, but things didn’t stay that way. Only a few hours into their alliance, and tensions were rising again.

As they neared the Guardians’ ship, their leader—the human calling himself Star-Lord—pulled out a small orange device, which began to blink brightly at him. He squinted at the object for another moment, then wondered, “The hell happened to this planet? It’s eight degrees off its axis. Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

Mantis, it seemed, had already figured this out for herself. She had climbed to the top of a small pile of rubble and was jumping up and down, reaching at least ten feet in the air, as if bouncing on a trampoline. Privately, he wanted to join her, but he was an Avenger now—and they  _ did _ have a very serious problem.

“Yeah, we got one advantage. He’s coming to us,” Tony murmured to himself. Then, at normal volume, he said, “We’ll use it. Alright, I have a plan! Or at least the beginnings of one.”

Peter hurried over to join him, as Star-Lord drifted their way reluctantly. Mantis bounced over, while Drax...remained exactly where he was. 

“It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. We definitely don’t want to dance with this guy, we just want the gauntlet—” Tony broke off, and Peter followed his gaze to see Drax, who in the middle of a gigantic yawn, and Mantis, who was peering into his mouth as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. When they realized all eyes were on them, however, they froze. “Are you  _ yawning? _ In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

Drax shuffled his feet, then glanced at Mantis and said, without an ounce of shame, “I stopped listening after you said we needed a plan.”

“Okay,” Tony seethed, a vein visibly throbbing in his temple. “Mr. Clean’s on his own page.”

Adjacent to them, Star-Lord had his hands in his pockets and seemed to be enjoying the show. “See, not winging it isn’t really what they do.”

“Um, what exactly  _ is _ it that they do?” Peter asked, before Tony could kill their new allies.

Instantly, Mantis declared with gusto, “Kick names, take ass.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Drax added confidently.

When Peter chanced a glance at his mentor, he could actually  _ see _ the five stages of grief happen in real-time on his face.

“Alright, just get over here, please? Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“Star-Lord is fine,” he said smugly, as Drax and Mantis finally joined them in a circle.

“We gotta coalesce,” Tony insisted. “‘Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—”

“Dude, don’t call us plucky.” Peter was  _ strongly _ tempted to web Star-Lord’s mouth shut. “We don’t know what it means. Alright, we’re optimistic, yes. I like your plan, except it sucks, so let me do the plan and that way it might be really good.”

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe,” Drax suggested.

“What dance-off?” Tony demanded, in a tone that suggested he really didn’t want to know.

Star-Lord hesitated, tripping over his words. “It’s-it’s nothing, it’s—”

“Wait. Like in Footloose, the movie?” Peter’s jaw snapped shut as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd promised no more pop culture. Tony had moved out of his field of view, but he  _ felt _ the look his mentor was giving him.

“Exactly like Footloose!” Star-Lord’s whole expression lit up. “Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

That grabbed his attention again. Seriously? This was the same guy who thought Thor was unattractive! Some people had bad taste, but having it in both men _and_ movies? That was downright unforgivable. “It never was!”

Star-Lord’s eyes narrowed, as if he was considering breaking their truce right then and there.

* * *

Their bickering continued up until Strange doused them with cold water, in the form of the Time Stone.

Fourteen million different possible outcomes, and only one where they won. That was unfathomable. It sobered Star-Lord up and forced Tony to swallow his pride. As they put their heads together with Strange, and the three of them began muttering strategy, Peter found himself approached by Mantis.

“Why are you called Spider-Man?” she inquired, pitch-black eyes wide and curious.

“Um.” How could he answer that succinctly? “Well, on Earth, spiders are these little creatures with eight legs which stick to walls and spin webs. My legs are mechanical, but I can do everything else they can, so...it’s just appropriate.”

She nodded. “Interesting.”

“Yeah! Oh, we have an animal with your name too!”

Mantis’ antennae rose, which seemed to indicate an elevated mood or interest. “You  _ do?” _

“A mantis, or mantises!” Peter said, nodding. “They have these cool pincers, and they’re really neat-looking.”

“Are they similar to spiders?” she asked interestedly, beaming at him.

“No, not really. I mean, they both lay eggs, but a lot of things on Earth do that.”

“Really? Do  _ you _ lay eggs too?”

Peter snorted—once, Ned had asked him the same thing. “I really hope not. I’m  _ so _ not ready for kids.”

He had meant it as a joke, but she blinked at him, mystified. “How could you not be sure?” Then she let out a little gasp. “Is it your first time?”

“Huh?” He blinked, stepping back. “Uh, wait—”

“What is going on?” A gravelly voice interrupted them, making Peter jump. Drax had wandered over, eyeing him suspiciously.

“The Spider-Man is pregnant!” Mantis informed him excitedly.

Instantly Drax’s entire demeanor changed. With a hearty laugh, he thumped Peter on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Congratulations, human!”

“But—I’m not—” He glanced helplessly between the two of them, eyes darting back and forth as if watching a tennis match.

“Alright, kid!” Tony called, mercifully. “Come here. Bring Mr. Clean and Tinker Bell with you.”

The two aliens exchanged looks, before following him over.

“Alright, we—”

“—I came up with something,” Quill cut in smugly. Tony rolled his eyes, while Strange settled on staring off into the distance, as if trying to tune them out.

“The best we can figure,” Tony began again. “Thanos is expecting the Time Stone to be ready and waiting for him. So we’re gonna give him the next best thing—the Stonekeeper, or whatever he’s called.”

He pointed to a nearby flight of stone steps, which stopped halfway up to a high, crumbling wall. “Strange is gonna be right there, distracting Thanos. Peter, you’ll be above him on that wall—”

“What?” Quill interrupted again, frowning. “No, I’m supposed to be over here, on the ground.”

“You—” Tony broke off, and staring at the two. “Your name is Peter?”

Mantis gasped, her eyes widening. “There’s two of them,” she whispered loudly to Drax, who nodded sagely.

“I suspected it right from the start. They look exactly alike.”

“No we don’t!” Peter—Parker  _ and _ Quill—protested.

“Fine,  _ Spider-Man _ will be on the wall.” Tony was massaging his temples now. “Star-Lord will be on the ground with Drax. Everyone follow? Good. When we attack, it’ll have to be all at once. I’ll hit him from above. Parker, Strange, Drax, Quill, hit him from all different angles. Knock him off balance, don’t give him a chance to recover. Blind him, stun him, do  _ not _ try to outmuscle him. As soon as we have an opening, we go for the gauntlet, but we have to do it  _ together. _ It’s gonna take everyone to get it off him. And that’s where  _ you _ come in.” He pointed at Mantis, who blinked owlishly back at him. “Quill told me what you can do. Something about putting a planet to sleep? One big guy should be easy for you.”

Mantis bit her lip, and hesitated. A moment later, however, her expression hardened. “I can do it.”

“Alright. Strange will portal you right on top of him, so just be ready. After we get the gauntlet off...well, we’ll figure it out from there.”

“He’ll be here within a few hours, at most,” Strange warned. “We need to be ready.”

“Any questions?” Tony asked. “No? Then get in position.”

The group began to disperse, but Peter lingered. “Tony?”

“Yeah, kid? What’s up?”

“Just...be careful.”

His mentor’s expression softened slightly, before the helmet folded around his head. “You too, Pete. See you on the other side.”

Then he rocketed into the air, disappearing beyond the clouds.

“As soon as we have that bastard, he’s telling me where Gamora is,” Peter heard Quill mutter.

“We will find her.” Once again, Drax surprised him, sounding unexpectedly reassuring.

“You said Thanos took your girl,” Peter recalled, loudly. Quill turned around to glance at him. “Is that Gamora?”

He nodded. “Here’s some free advice, kid. Before you shack up with anyone, make sure their father isn’t a psychotic killer or anything.”

That elicited a snort from him, before he could stop it. Quill’s eyes narrowed, and Peter held up a hand placatingly. “No, no! It’s not funny. Not like that. Just...I’ve been there already. Evil dads are the worst.”

“Yeah? How’d yours work out?”

Peter glanced up at the sky, where Tony had flown off. Somewhere out there, in the vast reaches of space, Connor was back on Earth, hopefully somewhere safe. “Good. It worked out good.”

Quill didn’t reply, and when Peter returned his gaze to Titan’s surface, the Guardians’ leader was already retreating to a suitable hiding spot with Drax.

_ I hope this one works out too. _

* * *

Connor had never been on a plane before, so as thrilling as it was to ride with the Avengers, he did not enjoy the trip to Wakanda. After a few minutes of watching him groan and curl up in a corner of the Quinjet, Natasha had wordlessly passed him a bucket, which he graciously accepted. He hadn’t had to  _ use _ it yet, but it was better to be prepared.

Eventually, he’d meandered up to the cockpit and looked out the window, watching the Atlantic Ocean rush by underneath. Focusing on something outside the metal contraption had helped his stomach a little, and he’d started to actually  _ enjoy _ the trip.

Then Steve had advised them to fly  _ directly _ into a small mountain, and Connor decided he was done looking out windows.

Except the mountain wasn’t actually a mountain, and after passing through the hologram, Connor chanced another look and was immediately enraptured.

Wakanda’s capital—Birnin Zana, Steve had called it—was  _ beautiful. _ It was a sleek, futuristic, technological marvel surrounded by dense, lush forests and a glittering coast to the south. There was no contrast between the earthy, rural landscape and the modern city—they bled into one another seamlessly, a perfect mixture of natural and manmade science. As the Quinjet streaked over the water, coming to dock, a small delegation of red-armored women with spears approached, evidently some kind of greeting party.

Steve and Natasha existed first, followed by Rhodey and Bruce, and Connor at their heels. Behind him, Wanda and Sam helped Vision bring up the rear.

“Should we bow?” Bruce whispered to Rhodey. It was not an unfair question, Connor considered.

“Yeah man, he’s a king!”

_ Who is a king? _ Connor wondered, peering around them. In the middle of the all-female squad approaching them, walked a man in black, ornate robes. Connor only recognized him from his recent appearances in international news—King T’Challa.

He certainly  _ looked _ like a king. There was a refined, regal air about him, the kind of unflinching composure that had to be learned for many years. Nevertheless, Steve was undeterred by it as he approached, and the pair clasped forearms.

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something,” he said, and T’Challa smiled.

Then Bruce cleared his throat, ducking into a bow, and Connor hastily copied him.

“What are you doing, guys?” Rhodey demanded, with thinly-veiled amusement.

“Uh, we...we don’t do that here,” T’Challa said, glancing at the pair of them with blatant—yet polite—confusion.

Connor’s cheeks flamed, and he hastily straightened up, shuffling to hide behind Bruce. Maybe if he were lucky, the earth would open up and swallow him whole. He caught Rhodey grinning at him, and sent a glower in the Avenger’s direction.

“So, how big of an assault should we expect?” T’Challa asked, turning and leading the group toward the palace. His guards immediately made an about-face and followed, never straying from formation.

“Sir, I think you should expect quite a big assault,” Bruce answered, hurrying to keep up.

“How we looking?” Natasha asked.

“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and...” T’Challa gestured toward the palace doors.

The man who approached them stuck out like a sore thumb, by virtue of the gleaming silver and gold arm attached at his left shoulder. That, and he was very obviously  _ not _ Wakandan, being paler than Peter in the winter.

“...and a semi-stable, hundred-year-old man,” he finished for T’Challa, extending his arms to wrap Steve up in a hug.

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asked, returning the embrace.

_ This _ was Bucky Barnes?  _ This _ was the Winter Soldier? He certainly didn’t  _ look _ like the grizzled, remorseless assassin known to the rest of the world. As the two men separated, and Bucky appraised the rest of the group, Connor noticed he kept one hand firmly intertwined with Steve’s. 

“Oh, not bad, for the end of the world,” he said, grinning.

Without stopping, Wanda, Vision, and Natasha followed T’Challa into the palace. Steve lingered a moment longer, only having eyes for Bucky. Their exchange was entirely wordless, and completely non-physical, but the affection between the two was as bright and distracting as the Sun in a cloudless sky. Then, with a final squeeze of their hands, they broke apart, and Steve joined the Avengers heading into the palace.

“Connor,” Bruce said suddenly, pulling away his attention. “The Quinjet has a transponder installed, and there’s a number pad near its rear door. Can you do me a favor? Find that pad and key in the sequence 09-13-82-49.”

“09-13-82-49,” he repeated, nodding. “Then what?”

“Then...” Bruce paused, evidently taking the question seriously. “Then stay safe until I get back.”

With that, he hurried to catch up with Steve, leaving Connor on the landing pad with Sam, Rhodey, Bucky, and a handful of Wakandan guards.

“You hanging in there?” Sam called out, as he turned toward the Quinjet.

“Just peachy."

Bucky asked, “Who’s the kid?”

“Remember Spider-Man? Crazy guy with the webs in Germany, wouldn’t shut up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well...”

Ignoring them, Connor marched up the Quinjet’s ramp and found the number pad bolted into the wall, with a tiny screen hanging just above it. He punched the code in, and it beeped loudly at him.

_ ID CODE ACCEPTED, _ the screen read.  _ IM MK 49/HB MK 2 IS INBOUND. _

Connor could only guess what that meant, but it  _ sounded _ like Bruce had just had him summon one of Tony’s armors. Was this the idea Rhodey had mentioned, in place of the Hulk?

As he walked down the ship’s ramp, Sam drifted away to talk with Rhodey, who was suiting up into his War Machine armor. Bucky, however, locked eyes with Connor and made a beeline for him. He didn’t appear overly hostile, but his face had lost the friendly smile he’d flashed at Steve and Natasha earlier. Now, he and his metal arm seemed much more intimidating.

“So, you know Iron Man?”

Connor blinked, surprised and a little defensive. “Yeah, I do. What’s it to you?”

“I just—” Bucky faltered, mouth flapping noiselessly for several seconds, as words seemed to fail him. Then, finally, in a much more subdued tone: “Is he...happy?”

It was a hushed, strangled kind of a question, and an odd one at that. Unlike Steve, Bucky kept a tight lid on his emotions, but Connor recognized regret when he heard it. Whatever Tony’s history was with this guy, it wasn’t good.

He didn’t consider himself an expert on Tony Stark—that honor went to people like Pepper, or Rhodey, or Peter. But with all that he’d  _ personally _ seen, between planning his own wedding, busting Happy’s chops, and working with Peter in the lab…

“I think so, yeah.”

Bucky nodded. Evidently he was satisfied by the answer, though the guilt in his eyes didn’t appear to have lessened, and that left Connor more mystified than ever.

“So, Pipsqueak,” Sam said, striding up to the pair. “Ready to slum it with us lawbreakers?”

Connor was so grateful for the distraction that he was unable to hold back a laugh. Sam raised an eyebrow, and he awkwardly turned it into a cough.

“I’m...not really Avenger material.”

Sam smirked. “None of us were at the start. Sometimes it just takes the right moment and some adrenaline. Ever actually been in a fight?”

“More than you might expect.”

Then a tremor shook the air. It was very slight, as if heavy machinery were running nearby, but it was enough to make all three glance up. Then, slowly, Sam put a finger to the communicator in his ear.

“Hey, Cap? We got a situation here.”

There was a large, black mass forming in the sky above them—and then a gigantic vessel, easily as long as an aircraft carrier and shaped like an icicle, broke through the clouds and dropped right on top of them.

Or, it would have, if it hadn’t struck an invisible barrier covering the city and exploding into fiery shrapnel. The shield flickered, but remained strong.

“God, I love this place,” Bucky whistled.

“Don’t start celebrating yet guys,” Rhodey called from several feet away. “We’ve got more incoming outside the dome.”

Indeed, Connor followed gaze and spotted five more ships safely landing a valley, several miles beyond the city. Their impact shook the ground like an earthquake, and he stumbled.

“What’s happening?” he yelled, a little hysterically.

“They came for the Stone,” Sam grunted, metal wings extending from his back. Then he shot into the air, Rhodey taking off after him. As the Wakandan guards around the area shouted orders and hurried to respond to the encroaching threat, Bucky met Connor’s wide eyes and shrugged. Then he started as if surprised by something, and he held out his metal arm, palm up. From the center of his hand, a projection appeared—Steve and Bruce.

“Dr. Banner, I entered that code like you told me,” Connor said quickly.

Bruce nodded, looking relieved.  _ “Great. The Hulkbuster should be inbound soon, then. The city’s being evacuated, Connor. All civilians are being moved north—” _

His eyes widened. “What? What about you?”

_ “We’re going down into the valley,” _ Steve answered very quietly, his expression grave.  _ “We’ll buy T’Challa’s sister time while she extracts the Mind Stone from Vision. Wanda’s going to destroy it as soon as she can.” _

_ “The transit center isn’t far from the palace. You can get out there, with the rest of the evacuees. You can’t be here,” _ Bruce insisted.  _ “Anyone left is coming with us.” _

Words failed him. Did he  _ want _ to fight—and possibly die in battle against—a hostile alien army? No, he most certainly did not. But...he didn’t want to leave Bruce and the others either. 

Bucky’s cleared his throat, and Connor looked up into his solemn expression.

“This city is about to become a war zone,” he said. “Staying behind is  _ our _ job, not yours. You’re just a kid.”

A faint spark of defiance ignited within Connor—a knee-jerk response to the mention of his age—but he quelled it.

Bucky was right.

This  _ wasn’t _ his responsibility. He had gotten Bruce to the compound, made contact with the rest of the Avengers—there was nothing left for him to do. Maybe he had abilities, and maybe he had been trained to fight, but as an Inner Demon he was little more than a child soldier—there was no shame in wanting to get away from more violence.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Um, do you...need...anything? Before I go?”

In the hologram, Steve’s beard twitched, the only evidence of a small smile.

_ “Just keep yourself safe,” _ Bruce ordered sternly.  _ “Bucky, can you show him the way and meet us in the valley?” _

“Yup. On it.” Before anyone could say anything else, Bucky’s fingers closed into a fist and the projection disappeared. Then, he pulled out a massive automatic rifle that was strapped to his back, and said, “Follow me, kid. Let’s get you out of here.”

* * *

Bucky led Connor into the palace, through a series of winding corridors and way too many flights of stairs, before they finally stepped back out into the sunlight. This must be the front entrance of the palace, Connor realized. Before them stretched a large series of steps, wide enough to drive a vehicle up. It led down to what looked like the city’s streets, which were chock full of civilians who were all converging on one location—a spire-shaped building with gleaming windows. It was approximately 50 yards away, and small in comparison to the surrounding skyscrapers, but still close enough to be easily reached.

“That’s the transit center,” Bucky said, pointing at the spire. “They’ll be using underground trains to move everyone north. Probably to J’Abariland. It’s the farthest from Birnin Zana, and the mountains are defensible.”

“Have you been there?”

“No, but Princess Shuri told me about it—for some reason, she advised me to remember that the people there are vegetarians.” Bucky shrugged, a slightly mystified look on his face. “Can you get there on your own from here?”

Connor nodded. He didn’t need a babysitter, and he suspected Bucky wanted to find Steve as soon as possible.

“Alright.” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck. Take care of yourself, Pipsqueak.”

“You, uh, you too.”

Then he was gone, nearly sprinting back into the palace. Connor exhaled loudly, gazing back down at the crowded streets, and hurried to join the throng. 

He took the steps two at a time, and was able to slip into the evacuation easily. To their credit, despite the panicked situation, most of the people seemed relatively calm. However, that didn’t mean they were quiet—plenty were shouting questions, both in English and Xhosa. They wanted to know what was happening, where they were going, how long they would be away, where their king was, what the alien ships were doing…

Nearly twenty minutes later, Connor finally made it to the Spire’s entrance. He half-expected there to be some sort of ID screening, but other than a few strange looks from security personnel, nothing impeded his progress.

The transit center’s underground station was just as beautiful as the rest of the city. Its curved walls and ceiling glimmered a bright purple, not unlike the sparkling inside of a geode. Thin patterns of obsidian swirled their way through the crystalline decor, and the floor was composed of the same glossy, black material.

Connor was so entranced by the view that he actually stopped walking, and was harshly shouldered by an impatient Wakandan behind him. Remembering himself, he continued following the crowd.

The “trains” as Bucky had called them were long, massive, bullet-shaped vessels which floated off the ground by a few feet, one on either side of the station’s platform. Their tracks weren’t actually tracks, just flat surfaces with a pair of prongs on either side. The prongs were each several yards apart from each other, and they hummed with vibrant energy, weightlessly suspending the cars. 

_ Peter would lose his shit over all this, _ Connor realized fondly, as he hurried to the nearest open compartment.

However, just before he could slip inside, an alarm sounded and the door shut. The rest of the train sealed itself in tandem, and with a loud hum that vibrated his teeth, it rocketed out of the station. A moment later, on the other side of the platform, the other train did the same, shooting off to parts unknown.

“What?” he wondered aloud, as several people around him made various noises of fear and anger. “What’s happening?”

“Maximum occupancy,” a man beside him explained. He looked Connor up and down, inspecting his appearance. “The trains cannot carry the entire city in one trip. We will have to wait for them to return.”

“How many more trips is it going to take to get everyone out of here?”

The man shrugged. “Perhaps two, maybe three? This has never happened before. But priority is to get children, the old, and the sick out first.”

More and more people were entering the station, and it was starting to get cramped. Authorities shouted orders, trying to halt the influx of bodies, and Connor found himself pressed against one of the station’s pillars.

As he waited with the civilians for the trains to return, he cast furtive, curious glances at the people around him. There were still  _ way _ too many children left in the station, he decided. Entire families clutched themselves tightly, having refused to abandon each other. The more time went on without the trains returning, the more people started to appear more fearful. Their composure was slipping.

He could guess what they were thinking. Had the fighting started yet? If the Avengers and the Wakandan military couldn’t hold them back, how long would it take for enemy forces to get into the city? Get to them?

He glanced up at the ceiling, and wondered if perhaps it would be safer to go above ground. He felt like a sitting duck down here.

Finally, mercifully, an alarm rang and the trains pulled back into the station, coming gently and silently to a stop on either side of the platform. The doors opened, and people immediately began filing in. Someone was shouting directions, trying to bring a little order to the embarking, but fear had festered and turned people impatient.

He slipped inside the nearest compartment before he could be shoved out of the way. The train was significantly shinier, fancier, and more advanced, but its interior wasn’t too dissimilar from the New York subway cars. There were only a few seats left, and he quickly snagged one near the doors.

Okay, now all he had to do was wait. When the fighting was over, he’d come back—

A shout caught his attention, and Connor’s eyes snapped to the open doors across from him. A Wakandan man was struggling against two security officers, who were attempting to hold them back. With a jolt, Connor recognized him as the same man who had spoken to him mere minutes ago. As he struggled, the last passenger to board—a woman who held a young girl in her arms—whirled around and rushed back to the commotion.

“He is my husband!” she shouted at the officers, but her tone was more pleading than angry. “He was right behind us! Have you no compassion?”

“Papa!” the little girl cried fearfully.

“Adisa!” He threw a hand out at the train. “That is my daughter! I beg of you, let me on, please!”

“The train is full!” one of the officers yelled. From his pocket he pulled out a cube-shaped object, no bigger than a die. Then he squeezed it between his fingers, and it projected a pair of manacles composed entirely out of hard light. He slapped the cuffs onto the man’s outstretched arm, then grappled with him for the other limb.

_ “All passengers, prepare to depart,” _ a smooth, disembodied voice sounded across the compartment, and little Adisa wailed.

Connor was on his feet and approaching the scene before he’d fully comprehended what he was doing. He lunged forward, grabbing Adisa’s father by his front, and pulled him from the officers’ grip. Then, in one fluid motion, he spun around and shoved him towards his wife and daughter, stepping out of the car just as its doors shut.

Before Connor could see the look of shocked gratitude on the reunited family’s faces, the train accelerated out of the station, and left him behind on the platform.

“What was that?” one of the officers demanded of him.

“I didn’t like my seat,” he replied coolly, glancing at them. “I decided to get a better one on the next trip.”

Looking around the station, he noticed that there were still hundreds of people crowding the station—it was going to take more than one more trip to evacuate everyone.

Fortunately, the flow of refugees had stopped. Everyone left in the city must be down in the station, or already in J’Abariland. The speed of the evacuation was downright impressive—it would have taken hours upon hours to do the same in the New York

Still, they had a few minutes until the trains came back, and he needed a bit of air.

Connor squeezed his way through the crowd, until he reached the steps. He climbed up two and sat down on the third, keeping himself near surface but also close enough that he could return when he needed to.

He exhaled loudly, putting his head in his hands and staring at his feet.

He  _ could _ have been home free...but watching a family be separated like that tugged at something inside him. Besides, there were other trains to catch. He’d be out of here in no time.

Maybe the little girl had reminded him a bit of Holly.

Months ago, he’d asked Tony for the means to get in touch with his sister, and their parents. He’d delivered, but their address and house number sat unused in Connor’s phone, simultaneously tempting and terrifying.

He had no desire to reconnect with his parents—his father had beat him and thrown him out for being gay, and his mother hadn’t lifted a finger to stop him—but Holly was the one bright spot Connor could remember from his life before Negative. 

He ruffled his own hair, then shook his head as if to shoo away the thoughts. Why was this on his mind  _ now? _

Then, his ears picked up a faint noise.

Connor didn’t have enhanced senses or a danger radar like Peter, but he knew that human instinct was a powerful thing. There was a fight-or-flight response in everyone, and when it activated, the world changed.

The noise he heard was not unlike a growl, though it didn’t sound like any animal he could think of. Adrenaline shot through him instantly, blood roared in his ears, and his muscles coiled like a spring in preparation to move. He stood up, every nerve in him on high alert, and inched up the steps, toward the noise.

When he got far enough to peer up into the city, he silenced the gasp that threatened to escape from his lips, and ducked back down.

The creature sniffing around the street was very clearly not from Earth. It had leathery black and yellow skin, and patches of it were missing as if it had walked through a fire. It had six arms, each pair shorter than the one before it, and crawled across the ground like some kind of dog. It was, however, slightly bigger than the average human. Completely eyeless with an extremely toothy mouth, it looked like something straight out of a horror film.

The wait for the trains had now become a race against time. Eventually that thing would sniff its way over to the station, and he doubted it was the only one. The civilians weren’t exactly being quiet, either. If they weren’t gone before it discovered them…

“Hey!” someone shouted, and Connor whirled around, eyes wide. One of the officers from the altercation earlier was glaring at him. “Get back down here! It isn’t safe!”

“Shush!” Connor hissed, quickly hurrying toward him. “There’s—”

“Who are you, anyway?” the officer demanded, not lowering his voice. “You are not from—”

A blood-chilling roar interrupted him. Connor turned and threw out one hand, erecting a barrier across the entire entrance just before the alien slammed into it. The action had been entirely on impulse, and for that he was lucky—if he had been a second too slow, he would have been killed.

The officer shouted in alarm, and that drew the eyes of civilians—who took one look at the creature and immediately started screaming.

Connor ignored them, trying to concentrate on maintaining the barrier as it was rammed again. The alien howled, and seconds later more of its brethren appeared at the top of the stairwell. They hurled themselves into the construct recklessly, an unending assault of flesh and bone.

“The train has returned!” someone shouted. “Everyone, get onboard!”

“How long can you keep that up?” the officer beside him asked.

Connor ground his teeth together and shrugged. “As long as you need me to.”

In truth, he didn’t know. Sustained energy was more difficult, and his powers were not limitless. But he could drain himself to power the barrier, if it came to that.

He chanced a look over his shoulder, and saw the remaining civilians herding into the cars. But before everyone could board, another alarm sounded, and the doors slammed shut.

“Where are they going?” Connor yelled as the trains sped away.

“Too many people!” the guard shot back, nervously eyeing the aliens as they snapped uselessly at the barrier. “If there is too much weight, it won’t move!”

There were easily a  _ hundred _ people left in the station. That was a small enough number that the trains only had to return and depart one last time, but Connor wasn’t sure he could promise their safety for that long. These things were  _ strong. _ Every impact sent a tremor through him, and he was only as powerful as his will. If he became tired or distracted, or if he hesitated, the barrier would weaken.

“What can we do?” the officer demanded, a little hysterically. “We cannot fight these things!”

“We’re not,” he shot back. “But get everyone as far away from the doors, just in case.”

He obeyed, barking orders in Xhosa at his comrades. They began to usher away the civilians, who were only too happy to comply.

As several of the aliens made another charge, Connor yelled and pushed back, expanding the barrier to meet them head-on. His effort was rewarded with the sound of sickening crunches, but the aliens didn’t seem too fazed by broken bones and blunt-force trauma. They simply collected themselves and tried again.

His forehead pounded, and sweat began to drip from it. His bones started to ache with fatigue, and a burn was seeping into his muscles as if he were carrying a heavy weight. Which, in a way, he was. 

“It’s here!” a voice behind him cried, and Connor whipped his head over his shoulder, relieved to see the trains were indeed pulling into the station—

The barrier shattered with a loud crack, and the aliens poured through.

“NO!” Connor redoubled his efforts, throwing out both hands at the enemies, and a wide sheet of light materialized across the width of the station, catching the aliens before they could eviscerate him. They roared angrily, and pushing at the construct, and Connor moved several paces back, putting more distance between them. As he did, the left train’s nearest door opened, and the officer from earlier poked his head out.

“Hey! We are waiting on you! Everyone else is aboard!”

_ Shit. _ Connor squeezed his eyes shut.  _ I’m gonna regret this. _

If he got on the train, there would be nothing stopping these things from following the tracks all the way to J’Abariland. The entire evacuation would be wasted, and even if they  _ could _ mount a defense or destroy the tracks in time, this transit center had to have more than one route. Once the aliens got access to the tunnels, trying to find them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

They had to be stopped here and now.

“Forget me! Get everyone else out of here!”

The officer gave him an incredulous look. “You cannot—”

_ “Shut the fuck up and fucking go!” _ he roared, his eyes blazing. “Don’t make me keep you here too! You feel like dying with me?”

The threat had been completely empty, but it was enough to get the officer going. With one last, shell-shocked glance at Connor, he ducked inside the train. Its door shut, and seconds later both vessels shot down their tracks, carrying the last of Birnin Zana’s citizens to safety.

_ Alright, _ Connor thought, as he focused his attention back on the aliens, fixing them with a murderous glare.  _ Now that that’s taken care of… _

Keeping one hand still outstretched toward the barrier, with the other he reached into his pocket and pulled out the square housing unit he’d received in the compound. As he stared at it, Bruce’s words flowed back into his mind.

_ “Take it, just in case. And do your best.” _

_ Well, here goes nothing, _ he thought wryly, and slapped the unit against his chest.

The device came to life instantly. Nanomachines bloomed from it to envelop his entire torso, and dripped down his legs like melted wax. They stretched across his shoulders to coat his arms and hands, while more rose up to cover his neck, then his head, and finally his face. Connor’s vision went dark for a moment, before the HUD lit up, and restored his eyesight.

The suit was primarily a dark, gun-metal grey color. However, there were accents of purple across its surface—the arc reactor in the center of his chest; a thicker, extra layer of armor which covered his forearms, hands, and fingers; a pair of pointed stripes which curved around his hips, almost like a belt; an upside-down, triangular plate on the mouth of his helmet; and the soles of his boots. The helmet’s eyepieces were large and expressive, like Peter’s, and they glowed a faint purple as well.

_ “Welcome, Connor,” _ Karen greeted calmly. On the other side of the barrier, the aliens howled, evidently even more enraged by this transformation.  _ “Accessing Stark Industries servers now. Would you like to input a designation for this unit?” _

“Uh...” That made him falter for a moment.

When facing Negative for the last time, he’d unleashed everything he had. He’d let go of being Animus, and the darkness in him turned to light—literally. It had shone within him like the Sun, giving him a surety he’d never known before—the confidence that he was doing something  _ right. _ That he was  _ good. _

Here, in Wakanda, that same feeling had returned. Once again, he felt a resolve he hadn’t thought possible. It was as if daybreak had come at long last.

“Morningstar,” Connor decided, as his hands lit up with blinding brilliance. “I guess...call me Morningstar.”

_ “Designation Morningstar accepted. I am detecting multiple hostiles ahead. Shall we begin?” _

Connor grunted, as the aliens pressed against his barrier again, and it strained to hold them back. His armor’s HUD highlighted them in red, designating them as targets. “Got any info on these things, Karen?”

_ “According to fragmented communications intercepted from the enemy ships, the children of Thanos refer to these creatures as Outriders. They are the shock troops of his army, designed to overwhelm the first lines of defense on a planet, and eliminate large numbers of the native population. They are virtually mindless, and only have a limited sense of self-preservation.” _

“Alright, well...” Connor dropped his hand, letting the barrier vanish. “Safeties off. Let’s do this.”

The Outriders surged forward, eager for blood. Connor shot one with a burst of energy, burning a hole right through its chest, and then struck the ground at his feet, throwing up a rippling wave which knocked several of the creatures aside. He narrowly sidestepped a swipe from one—only to be immediately tackled by two others. They threw him to the ground, and another pounced on his back, digging furiously into his armor. Connor yelled, unleashing a wide arc from his palms, and then elbowed the Outrider on top of him, stunning it. He kicked it off, and blasted a hole through its head.

Then, he conjured a dome around himself just as more of the aliens lunged at him, and they struck it with a sickening crunch.

These things were  _ strong, _ stronger than he’d expected. They would toss him around like a pack of hyenas if he gave them the chance.

_ “Connor,” _ Karen piped up.  _ “There is more available to you than just your abilities.” _

To demonstrate, the large, violet plates on his forearms and hands began to throw off sparks, like an exposed wire.

“Whoa,” he breathed, wincing as the Outriders heaved against at the dome. “What are these? What else can this thing do?”

_ “These are anti-personnel stun gauntlets, designed for close-quarters combat. Other capabilities include a high-intensity micro-laser, flare dispersal pods, a propulsion system—” _

“This thing can  _ fly?” _

_ “Yes, but I do not recommend doing so until you have practiced in a secure environment.” _

“If you say so!” Connor dropped the dome, and hurled a fist at the nearest Outrider. When the electrified gauntlet struck the alien, violet electricity arced up and down its body, and the creature screamed once before collapsing in a heap. Before Connor had time to admire the suit’s handiwork, another Outrider lunged at him, and he threw up one arm to block. It met the same crispy fate, while Connor threw himself at another pair.

The gauntlets were  _ very _ effective. They allowed him to fare better against such a large number of enemies, buying him precious seconds of time where he would otherwise have been overwhelmed. For all its benefits, however, Connor knew this was still a battle of attrition, and if something didn’t change the armor would eventually fail.

“Karen, how many are left?” he yelled as he threw one of the aliens into a support pillar.

_ “Seventeen.” _

That was still too many to hope blind luck would see him through this. Connor backed up, toward the edge of the station’s platform. Behind him, in between the tracks on either side, a massive chasm opened up.

“How far down does that go?”

_ “Twelve miles. I am not certain that a fall from that height would kill the Outriders, however.” _

“Who said anything about the  _ fall _ killing them?”

Connor whistled, loudly. It was unnecessary—the Outriders only had one target—but it did renew their bloodlust, and several charged at him.

“Hey, come get me! Fresh meat!” he yelled, backing up several steps—and the aliens tackled him over the edge.

Most of them lost their grip as soon as they tumbled into open air, save one. Connor blasted it in the face twice, until it was dead, and then he was in freefall. All around, the Outriders howled furiously, but they were just as helpless in the air as he was.

“Hey Karen!” he yelled, the wind roaring in his ears. “Ready for a test flight?”

_ “Diverting power to propulsion systems—” _

“No, wait! Not yet!” Connor threw out a burst of searing light from his hands, killing an Outrider drifting toward him. That was two down. “I’ll tell you when!”

_ “Connor, you have exactly five minutes and thirty-eight seconds remaining until impact. I do not—” _

“Just get ready!” He continued to fire more blasts at the plummeting aliens, using their red outline in his HUD to spot them in the darkness of the chasm.  _ Three...four...five... _

_ “Four minutes remaining.” _

_ Six...seven...nice, double hit, that’s eight and nine… _

_ “Three minutes remaining.” _

_ Ten...elev—come on, you fucker...eleven...twelve... _

_ “Two minutes remaining.” _

_ Thirteen…fourteen...fifteen...sixteen...just one more... _

_ “One minute remaining.” _

“Seventeen!” he yelled, as the last Outrider’s charred body slammed into the chasm wall and spiraled out of sight. “Now, Karen! Now now now now now now—”

Thrusters on his back, palms, and the bottoms of his feet ignited, just before he hit the ground. Connor let out an extremely undignified shriek as, like a slingshot, he rocketed back up to the top of the chasm, landing clumsily on the station’s platform. He stumbled twice, then fell to his knees, panting heavily.

“Holy shit!” he wheezed, trying to remember how to breathe properly. “Holy...wow… Karen?”

_ “Yes?” _

“I’m  _ never _ doing that again.”

_ “I should hope not.” _

* * *

As soon as Connor could recover his bearings, he left the underground station, rocketing up above the city.

Flying was  _ incredible, _ and much less scary than web-swinging in the open air with Peter had been. He wanted to  _ savor _ it, to relish in this newfound freedom, but the invading aliens forced him to put aside his personal enjoyment. As Connor climbed higher and higher, weaving around skyscrapers, he spotted massive plumes of smoke rising far in the distance. The thrusters of his suit whined, propelling him forward.

Then, as he broke over the city’s skyline, the valley beyond the city fell into view.

The Avengers were  _ alive. _ They had joined forces with the Wakandan army, and were meeting the Outriders head-on. Steve and T’Challa appeared to have led the charge, and were cutting a brutal path into the horde. There were too many aliens for the duo to keep the entire army at bay, but they’d made their stand at a river near the barrier’s edge, and dozens upon dozens of Outrider corpses littered its bank. T’Challa threw a glowing fist at the nearest enemy, and a massive shockwave of violet energy arced from the center of his suit, crumpling the alien’s face as if it had been shoved headfirst into a hydraulic press. Beside him, Steve wielded a pair of large, dagger-shaped shields on his forearms, fending off two of the creatures simultaneously. He slammed one of the shields into an Outrider’s mouth, then yanked down, ripping its jaw off as easily as pulling apart cotton.

Nearby, T’Challa’s general, a stern-looking bald woman Bucky had called Okoye, threw her spear directly into the gut of an Outrider that was lunging for Bucky’s back. Then, to Connor’s astonishment, the spear flew back into her hand just in time for her to shove it through the skull of another. As she ran past him, Bucky gave her a grateful nod. He seemed to have been keeping his distance, opting to mow down incoming hostiles with a particularly massive gun.

Suddenly, a massive fireball bloomed into existence near the mouth of the barrier’s breach. At first he couldn’t tell what had caused it—and then he saw Rhodey in his War Machine armor, arcing high above the devastation to drop a second payload of mines. A shoulder-mounted cannon was spewing a hailstorm of bullets into the Outriders, appearing to operate independently from its pilot. Something else flew past him, and Connor tensed, assuming it to be one of Thanos’ children. But it was Sam, folding his wings against his body and plummeting into a dive. Several missiles were discharged from his center, materialized in a ring around his body, they fired in a corkscrew pattern, peppering the bulk of the horde in a large area.

Scattered by the two flying Avengers’ firestorm, the herd thinned into two main groups. The first lunged directly into the path of a large Wakandan man wielding what looked like a very long club. He cracked the club against the nearest Outrider’s skull, then bellowed out a victorious laugh and threw himself into the fray with gusto. Nearly two dozen soldiers followed his lead, equally eager to defend their homeland.

The second group wasn’t any more fortunate—their path was initially unblocked, with few soldiers standing between them and the city. But a wide, blazing repulsor blast incinerated those at the forefront of the charge, and a massive Iron Man suit pounced on them, pummeling the aliens with its hammer-like arms. It seemed a little clumsy, as if not operated by a seasoned pilot—but the armor’s sheer size and bulk was enough to make it a useful battering ram.

That had to be Bruce, and this was the Hulkbuster suit. The Outriders scrambled to address the threat, circling it warily. Before they could come up with a plan, however, several of them became wracked with blue electricity and convulsed. The electricity arced through their ranks, spreading like a plague to touch everything it could reach, and Connor couldn’t place the source. Then he spotted Natasha, nearly invisible in the chaos of battle, unleashing another web of death on an unsuspecting cluster of aliens.

_ These _ were Earth’s mightiest heroes, Connor noted with awe, drifting to a stop and hovering in the air. They were the ones who had been tried and tested time and time again, forged by fire and blood.

Still, something about this bothered him. As numerous as the Outriders were, they  _ were _ being held back by the Avengers and the Wakandans. So how had a group of them managed to get into the city?

Suddenly, a large hammer hurtled up from the center of the horder and struck Rhodey, knocking him into the dirt. The hammer reeled back to its owner—a familiar-looking brute he now knew was named Cull Obsidian.

In a few seconds, the tide of battle completely changed. With Rhodey no longer suppressing the narrow gap in the barrier, the Outriders surged into the valley in greater numbers. The tossed T’Challa around as if he were a sack of potatoes, and Bucky was tackled to the ground by one, teeth snapping at his face. Even Steve was thrown off his game, suddenly pinned down and being mauled like a chew toy. A large group converged on Bruce, throwing all their weight into the Hulkbuster armor and successfully toppling it over. They clawed greedily at its shell, trying to crack it like an egg and get to the squishy human inside.

“No!” Connor accelerated toward the battle, desperate to assist. Even as he drew closer, he knew one person couldn’t  _ possibly _ be enough—

The sky parted, and a brilliant pillar of light slammed into the Earth’s surface, right in the middle of the alien army. Connor recoiled, drifting to a hard stop and shielding his eyes from the blinding flash. Through his fingers, he saw something fly out of the pillar, shredding the Outriders that had the Avengers pinned. Then it turned back toward the pillar, which vanished instantly, and flew into the hand of— 

_ Thor. _ His hair was shorter than it had ever been in pictures, and he was flanked by what looked bizarrely like a tree and a raccoon holding a very big gun, but...there was only one person Connor could think of who could summon all that lightning.

_ “Haha!” _ Bruce crowed in his ear. Karen must have patched him into the Hulkbuster suit.  _ “You guys are so screwed now!” _

Thor hardly paid any attention to the Avengers. As soon as the weapon—an axe, Connor realized belatedly—returned to his hand, he broke into a run at the Outriders

_ “Bring me Thanos!” _

The entire valley erupted with static and the acrid smell of ozone as he launched into the air like an avenging angel. Then he dropped back to the ground, bringing his axe directly down onto the army with a great, echoing  _ boom. _ A massive discharge of lightning erupted from the point of impact, washing over hundreds of Outriders and instantly incinerating those closest to the Asgardian.

“YES!” Connor screamed, unashamedly ecstatic, as the Wakandan army cheered.

_ Oh my god, _ he thought, as the troops rallied behind Thor and charged back into battle with renewed vigor.  _ I can’t wait to tell Peter about this! _

He maintained his speed, arcing low over the valley floor. Aiming directly for a group of aliens near T’Challa, Connor hit them in a full-body tackle. Rolling to his feet, he fired a burst of light from his palm and killed an Outrider before it could sink its teeth into the king’s back.

“Hi!” he greeted enthusiastically, jamming an enemy with one of his suit’s electrified gauntlets. “The city has been evacuated!”

T’Challa stared at him, evidently unsure of how to respond. Finally, he settled on a curt nod.

Several wounded cries reached their ears, and both of them turned toward the source. Obsidian was smashing his way through Wakandan soldiers, leaving a bloody trail in wake.

“Go!” Connor urged, filling his hands with light. “I’ll keep this area covered.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and unleashed a steady stream of blinding, burning light. It carved through the Outriders like a hot knife in butter, and he whooped. As infectious as the thrill of victory was, what really kept him going was the surge of unexpected emotion he’d felt when Thor had arrived.

The Outriders were  _ afraid. _ And if they could feel fear…

To test his theory, Connor aimed a hand at the nearest creature, reached out, and pulled. 

The alien howled as its features blurred and light was pulled from its skin, coalescing into Connor’s fingertips. The stolen energy revitalized his fatigued body, and Connor grinned as he directed his focus to another target.

A silvery glow emanated from him as he cast out his power in a wide arc. Any Outrider which came too close was seized by the light and immobilized as if caught in a gravity well. He siphoned everything he could from them, and with little remorse. The Outriders may have basic emotions, but they weren’t sentient enough to be conflicted about what they did. If given the opportunity, they would kill Connor in a heartbeat. He needed everything he had to survive against them.

The power condensing within him swelled to a climax, and with a yell, he threw his hands into the ground, directing everything he had back out at the enemy army.

A massive tidal wave of white energy cascaded across the landscape, throwing the Outriders aside with reckless abandon, and Connor allowed himself a little pride. He’d  _ never _ been able to cut loose like this before, not even against Negative. As an Inner Demon, he'd resigned himself to weakness, and this kind of power would have been nothing but a fantasy for him.

Something large and heavy landed behind him, and he whirled around just in time to see the Hulkbuster smack aside several ambitious Outriders.

“Connor!” Bruce did not sound particularly thrilled to see him. “What are you  _ doing _ here? What happened to the evacuation?”

“Some of these things got into the transit station, so I held them off while the civilians escaped!” he yelled back, throwing up a barrier for several enemies to charge into. “Any idea why?"

"They...they were circling the dome, trying to get around it. We let them in, to keep them focused on us, but some must have made it through."

"Well, I think I got them all." An Outrider lunged at his flank, and Connor blasted back, widening the barrier as more of the aliens attempted to get around it. "So, Thor’s not dead! That’s great!”

Bruce—or rather, the Hulkbuster’s unreadable faceplate—stared at him, speechless. 

“I  _ want _ to be here, Dr. Banner,” Connor added, backing up into the suit's looming shadow. “So let’s kick ass!”

Unfortunately, at that moment the ground exploded.

When the massive disc-shaped contraptions emerged from underneath the valley, Connor’s first thought was that they looked suspiciously like something out of Star Wars. Specifically, they reminded him of the shield generator on the ice planet Hoth, in Episode V.

He blamed this observation entirely on Peter.

His second thought, when the discs separated into individually-piloted shurikens and began indiscriminately mowing down both armies, was that they were  _ very _ screwed.

“Fall back! Fall back now!” T’Challa ordered. The Wakandan soldiers turned and fled for the hills leading back to the city, though many were not quick enough to avoid a grisly fate.

Bruce seized Connor by the back before he could do anything, lifting him up as if he were a kitten, and bounded away.

“Hey!” he protested, flailing in the Hulkbuster’s grip. “I can fly now, you know!”

They landed unsteadily out of the vehicles’ path, and Connor immediately wrenched himself free. Dozens of yards away, he could see Natasha and Okoye fighting the Outriders, helpless to avoid the discs—

Wanda landed in front of the two women, facing the threat head-on. She threw out her hands, and a red glow overtook the lethal contraptions, stopping their progress and suspending them in the air. A moment later, they spun out across the valley at her command, bowling over hundreds of Outriders and carving deep trenches into the ground.

"Whoa," Connor breathed, awestruck.

“What's she doing here?,” Bruce wondered aloud, apprehensively. “Has she destroyed the Stone?”

That question was answered a heartbeat later, when Sam’s voice sounded in their ears.  _ “Guys, we got a Vision situation! Get back to the spire!”  _

Then he let out a surprised yell, and went silent.

“The what?” Connor asked. “Sam!”

_ “Somebody get to Vision!” _ Steve ordered.

“I got him!” Bruce yelled into his communicator, activating the Hulkbuster’s thrusters. He rocketed into the air, curving in a large arc as he set a course for a forest southeast of the battlefield. 

"Wait!" Connor shouted, launching after him. In the distance, he could see a spire-shaped building built into a cliffside, overlooking a small jungle. That had to be their destination.

Bruce led their descent into the trees, and the pair landed directly in front of Vision, who was crouched on the ground in obvious pain. In front of them stood Obsidian, as well as an extremely skinny, elvish-looking reptilian alien with a hooded cloak—Corvus Glaive.

“Oh no, oh no you don’t,” Bruce warned, aiming both repulsors at them. “This isn’t gonna be like New York, pal, this suit’s already kicked the crap out of the Hulk.”

Connor wasn’t even sure if Obsidian could  _ understand _ English, but his comprehension didn't appear to be necessary. The massive alien roared and seized Bruce’s gauntlets with his claw-hammer. One of the repulsors fired, and with a yell the pair were suddenly launched through through trees, disappearing into a gorge several yards away.

_ Well...that’s one way to solve a problem, _ Connor thought nervously, turning his attention back to Corvus, whose black eyes glittered with anticipation. He was at least a foot taller, and gracefully flourished his weapon, a multi-bladed spear.

“Please go,” Vision pleaded, behind him. “Do not...”

Connor activated his gauntlets and filled his hands with sizzling light. Corvus’ mouth curved into a pleased, eager smile.

Then he made the first strike, thrusting the blade forward, and Connor just barely threw up a barrier in time before it could pierce his heart. Corvus quickly recovered, however, and weaved around the defense for another attack. Refusing to give him another chance, Connor went on the offensive. He unleashed a sustained blast of energy from his hands, powerful enough to sear flesh. But Corvus caught it on his blade, protecting himself. A sharp whine filled the air, as the weapon back to glow, and then it threw the energy  _ back. _

Shock slowed down his reaction time, and he was unable to avoid the bolt as it struck him square in the chest. He flew into a large tree, then dropped to one knee, touching his armor’s scorched chestplate and wincing. Being on the receiving end of his power was not pleasant. Now he knew how the  _ Outriders _ had felt.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he threw up a hand just in time to grab the Corvus’ fist, blocking it. But in his free hand, Corvus’ blade flashed, cutting deep into his armored midsection. Too late, Connor realized too late that he had been duped. Pain bloomed across his stomach, and with a snort of disgust, Corvus hurled him into the dirt. Before he could even attempt to crawl, a clawed foot kicked him onto his back and then came down on his chest, pinning him.

“Pity,” Corvus murmured. He raised his blade, preparing to drive it down—

A bolt of yellow light struck his side, and the alien howled in pain and rage. Both combatants looked around wildly for the source, and found it instantly—Vision, leaning against a tree for support, had come to Connor’s rescue. The stone on his forehead glowed, charging up another shot, but Corvus was quicker. Abandoning his current target, he darted forward and drove his blade directly into Vision’s chest. 

“I thought you were formidable, machine,” he growled, grabbing the android’s throat with his other hand. “But you’re dying, like any man.”

Then he pulled his weapon free, letting Vision slump against the tree. Corvus towered over Vision, eagerly drinking in the sight of his helpless prey—

Just as victory seemed lost, Steve came out of nowhere like a battering ram, knocking Corvus away.

“Get out of here!” he shouted at Vision, blocking a strike from the alien's weapon and retaliating with a fist of his own. “Go!” 

Connor suspected that even if Vision was  _ capable _ of moving, he would ignore the order. As it was, his head lolled limply against the log, and the wound in his chest sparked concerningly. After a moment, impossibly, he slowly began to rise.

Steve fared better than Connor had, matching each of Corvus' blows with inhuman speed and ferocity. His gauntlets were strong enough to resist the spear, and after deflecting the blade he managed to disarm his enemy entirely. But that only seemed to incense Corvus further, however, because he hurled Steve over a fallen log. Before his opponent could recover, Corvus seized him by the throat, intent on choking the very life out of him.

_ No, _ Connor wanted to shout, but his throat wasn’t working. Indeed,  _ all _ of his body was sluggish to respond after the beating he’d suffered. His fingers clawed into the dirt as he rose to his hands and knees, then staggered upright.

But before he could intervene, Vision beat him to the punch. Seizing Corvus’ forgotten spear, he hurtled forward and shoved it into the alien’s back. Corvus gurgled, letting go out of Steve, as Vision lifted him off his feet with the weapon. He tugged at blade sticking out of his chest, but after a few moments of struggling, went limp. As the last gasps of life hissed out of his mouth, Vision tossed him aside unceremoniously. Then he dropped to his knees, exhausted.

“I thought I told you to go,” Steve wheezed, sitting up and supporting the android before he could fall over completely.

“We don’t...trade lives...Captain,” Vision rasped. He glanced over at Connor gratefully.

Steve followed his gaze, and raised an eyebrow. “Seems we’re all disobeying orders today.”

He leaned Vision up against the log, then approached, clasping Connor’s hand. “Thank you.”

“I—I didn’t really do anything," he managed.

Steve looked like he wanted to disagree, but instead he just said, “You risked your life. That’s enough.”

With a great roar if machinery, the Hulkbuster armor leapt out of the nearby gorge and landed hard, stumbling towards them. It was missing an arm and significantly more beat-up, but from inside the suit, Bruce sounded uninjured.

“Big guy’s taken care of. Natasha’s on her way with backup, and she says Proxima Midnight bit the dust too. I think we got them all, Cap.”

Connor glanced between the two Avengers. He didn’t dare voice his optimism, but...

The foliage rustled behind him, and everyone whirled to face the new threat, only to relax when Sam and Bucky emerged instead. Behind them followed Natasha, T’Challa, and Okoye. A split second later, Rhodey dropped from the sky and landed beside them. The strange raccoon and tree brought up the rear of the group.

“Where’s Thor?” Connor wondered. If the fight really  _ was _ over, maybe they could use that rainbow pillar of light to find Peter and Tony out in space.

“Mopping up the rest of the space dogs and their ships.” To illustrate the raccoon’s point, the sky flashed with lightning and several violent explosions echoed in the distance. “He’s got a lot of anger to let out.”

“We should get Vision back to Shuri,” Steve suggested. “The sooner this stone is destroyed, the better. Speaking of which, has anyone seen—”

With a soft thrum, Wanda descended to the ground beside the group, as gentle as a falling leaf. Upon landing, she completely ignored everyone present and ran directly to Vision, crouching beside him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, eyeing his wounds fearfully.

Vision opened his mouth—and then groaned in pain, clutching his forehead as the stone in its center flashed rapidly.

Instantly Wanda put his hands over his, leaning closer. “What? What is it? Vis?”

The stone’s light died, and Vision’s lifted his gaze to her. When he spoke, it was with a resigned finality.

“He’s here.”

Wind picked up around the group, howling eerily, vibrating with a frequency which set Connor’s teeth on edge. It was as if the forest itself was screaming a warning at them—or perhaps heralding their doom.

“What the hell?” Natasha whispered.

Then, several yards behind Bruce, something blue flashed into existence. A smoky phenomena had appeared, roiling around like a miniature thunderstorm. When it collapsed in on itself and disappeared, Connor’s blood turned to ice.

The being which had emerged from the portal was humanoid, but much larger in size, easily as tall as the Hulkbuster. He was bald, with a pronounced chin, and strange markings on his face—perhaps scars? He wore no armor of any kind, instead clad in a sleeveless shirt and a simple pair of pants. In fact, the only metal on him at all seemed to be the shining golden gauntlet adorning his left hand. At the base of each of the gauntlet’s fingers was a different-colored stone. Purple, blue, red, orange...and then Connor noticed the green stone attached to the gauntlet’s thumb.

Bruce had said there were six Infinity Stones, hadn’t he? 

Not including Vision’s, that left five remaining...one of which was supposed to be protected by Tony and Peter.

_ Where were they? What happened to them? _

“Cap,” Bruce said lowly, as Thanos leveled a curious, calculating gaze at them. “That’s him.”

“Eyes up,” Steve ordered instantly, raising his shields and advancing to meet the new arrival. “Stay sharp!”

Thanos took a step forward. Then another, and another. He walked slowly and with purpose, but without any urgency, as if anything in his path was completely irrelevant.

Bruce was first to reach him. He lunged, but Thanos simply clenched his gauntlet into a fist, its blue stone glowing brightly. The Hulkbuster phased through him harmlessly, melting halfway into the rock wall beyond and becoming fused to it.

With a purple flash of light, Thanos knocked away Steve, then grabbed T’Challa mid-lunge, and punched him into the ground with a thunderous  _ boom. _ He did not get up.

Behind him, a flash of red light caught the corner of Connor’s eye, but he did not look back to investigate. He knew what that could only mean. This was no longer about saving Vision—the objective was just to stall Thanos long enough for his sacrifice to be successful.

Sam was down a split second later, his wings crumbling to pieces around him as he dropped like the forest floor like a stone. Rhodey rose to replace him, launching as many missiles as his armor held, but they simply vaporized before they could hit their target. With a wave of the gauntlet, the War Machine armor collapsed in on itself, and he too was tossed aside.

“Keep him back!” Natasha yelled as she and Okoye charged. Bucky sprinted ahead of them, peppering Thanos with bullets, but they appeared to do no damage. They simply ricocheted off his skin as he cast the Winter Soldier aside with the gauntlet's power. Thanos seized Okoye’s spear telepathically and hurled it back at her, while massive shards of rock exploded out of the ground to entrap Natasha.

Beside Connor, the tree alien slammed its hands to the ground, and massive vines erupted from the earth, coiling around Thanos. But they held him for little more than half a second, and cracked into splinters as he ripped himself free. In the next instant, both the tree and the raccoon were blasted out of sight by another violet burst of energy.

In a matter of seconds, the Avengers had all been eliminated. Now, the only thing standing between Thanos and the Mind Stone...was Connor.

Fear had completely paralyzed him. He took two steps backward, as Thanos continued to advance. His expression was completely indecipherable.

_ Fight back, _ a small part of Connor’s brain insisted, trying to cut through his mounting hysteria.  _ Fight back! _

Snapped out of his trance, Connor then threw out his hands, encasing himself, Wanda, and Vision in a large dome of energy. Through the opaque light, he saw Thanos stop on the other side of the barrier to inspect it.

_ I can do this, _ Connor told himself, gritting his teeth.  _ I have to do this. _

The first punch was so powerful, the force of.its impact alone nearly dropped Connor to his knees. His construct flickered weakly, threatening to shatter under the stress.

_ No, _ he thought, as it fell apart a second later.  _ No! _

He dug deep, throwing up a second dome before Thanos could get any closer. Strength left his body immediately, and he could feel blood drip from his nose as he expended every scrap of vitality he had. Undeterred, Thanos prepared to retaliate—

Steve appeared out of nowhere, striking his knee with enough force to make him stumble. Connor took the opportunity to move closer to Wanda and Vision, drawing the protection closer around them. He kept his eyes fixed on the battle in front of him.

Steve threw out a series of rapid-fire blows, each with the power to rip apart flesh and bone. But they seemed completely ineffective against Thanos, who took every hit without flinching. Then he lunged with the gauntlet, and Steve caught it in his hands. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the alien’s massive fingers in an attempt to hold him back. 

The effort to do so must have been  _ gargantuan, _ because Steve roared like a berserker. Thanos seemed momentarily surprised that he was being resisted, but in the next instant, he shoved Steve back, unbalancing him—and then lashed out with a vicious punch which knocked him out cold.

_ This can’t be happening! _ Connor screamed at himself, eyes wide.

Then the Infinity Gauntlet smashed through his barrier effortlessly, and seized Connor by the neck. The dome protecting Vision, Wanda, and himself evaporated instantly as he was lifted off his feet, and brought up to look Thanos dead in the eye.

Desperate and with no other option, he stretched out a hand toward his enemy’s face, and forged a connection between them.

Thanos blinked, evidently confused as to what was happening. But then Connor attempted to pull energy from him, and his expression transformed into a scowl.

“Empaths,” he growled disgustedly.

Then he drew back his fist, and knocked out Connor in a single blow.

* * *

From where he had been melded with the rock wall, Bruce had been able to see everything.

He was helpless to watch as one after another, all of the Avengers fell against Thanos, until only Connor remained. He looked terrified, staring down the Mad Titan, and that stoked a fire inside Bruce. He wanted to rush over and tear Thanos’ head from his body, but the armor was firmly stuck. There was no way he was getting out on his own.

When Thanos reached through the barrier to grab Connor by the neck, even the  _ Hulk _ took notice of that, the briefest flicker of interest from a consciousness inside him which was not his own. But no transformation occurred.

_ He’s just a kid! _

And yet, his age meant nothing to Thanos, who quickly disposed of him as he had all the others.

Then, Wanda struck him with her own power, and Bruce dared to hope that all this sacrifice would actually mean something.

Thanos used the gauntlet as a shield, struggling to advance against the torrent of scarlet energy. He was inches from seizing her when—

Vision exploded like a star going supernova, and Bruce shielded his eyes, blinded. Something in the air washed over him as the Mind Stone scattered into atoms, like the last exhale of an ancient beast.

“I understand, my child.”

Bruce struggled to clear his vision, blinking blearily at the scene before him. Thanos was cradling Wanda’s head, looking oddly at peace for someone whose plan had just been foiled.

“You could never,” she hissed, her eyes wet.

“Today, I lost more than you could ever know,” Thanos rumbled. “But now, there is no time to mourn. Now...there is no time at all.”

Then Bruce saw the green Stone sitting in the gauntlet’s thumb, and he understood.

They hadn’t won anything.

Thanos restored Vision to life before Wanda could even realize what was happening, and by the time she did, she was too late. He struck her aside without a backward glance, then ripped the Mind Stone from Vision’s forehead.

They had  _ lost. _

When the sixth and final stone was added to the gauntlet, an immense surge of power exploded outward from Thanos. His body lit up like a prism, he screamed, and for a second Bruce wondered if the power of the stones would be too much even for him—

Then a massive lightning bolt struck the Mad Titan, punching him into the earth. He retaliated quickly, unleashing a blast of iridescent energy into the sky. Bruce couldn’t lift his armor’s head to see the culprit, but there was only one person who it could be.

The gigantic axe hit home with a loud  _ squelch, _ and Thanos dropped to his knees. Thor landed in front of him, triumphant.

“I told you, you would die for that.”

He pushed the blade deeper in, eliciting a pained scream from the Mad Titan.

This was it, then. Somehow, impossibly, they had won. They—

Thanos snapped his fingers.

* * *

Bruce expected to die.

He expected everything to end after the gauntlet's use.

He did not expect that, after the bright flash from the stones had faded, he would still be fused to this  _ fucking _ rock.

“What did you do?” Thor roared.

Thanos was examining his own arm, which was now mangled and scarred. Then, wordlessly, he conjured a portal and fell through it. Thor’s axe dropped to the ground, still slick with blood.

One by one, the Avengers scattered around the area began to stir. Steve was first, shaking Connor awake and helping him to his feet. The both of them looked extremely disoriented. However, Connor’s eyes found Bruce, and he sprinted over.

“Dr. Banner!” he called, skidding to a stop in front of the Hulkbuster. “Are you okay?”

_ Was _ he okay? Bruce didn’t know how to answer that question yet. “I think I’ll be better if I get out of this.”

Connor nodded. His palms flickered, then lit up with white light, and he fired a small burst from them, chipping away at the rock around the armor. “I got you.”

Mercifully, it did not take long. Bruce dropped to the forest floor a few moments later. The helmet around the armor opened, revealing his face. “Thanks, kid,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m...” Connor frowned, weighing the question. “I don’t know. I—”

He broke off. His brow furrowed, as if he were staring at a math equation he couldn’t solve.

Bruce felt his pulse begin to quicken. “What? What is it?”

“I feel...” He looked down, then let out a surprised noise, and Bruce followed his gaze to Connor’s hands.

They were greying and crumbling apart into tiny particles, as if under an accelerated time-lapse. Bruce’s eyes widened, and he looked up to see Connor had an equally horrified expression on his face. Realization and finality set in much too quickly, like a rush of vertigo. Bruce felt faint watching the disintegration travel up Connor’s arms, greedily stripping apart the rest of his body.

_ He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t be here. _

“E-everyone, Dr. Banner,” Connor whispered shakily. “I feel everyone.”

Then oblivion consumed him, and he was nothing more than scattered ashes.

* * *

Titan hadn’t been a paradise when they’d first arrived, but now it was beyond wrecked. Suffering a bombardment from its own moon had completely destroyed a good portion of the planet’s surface, and kicked up massive clouds of dust which were quickly blotting out the sun, making temperatures drop. There was no way anything would survive here for more than a few hours, at best.

Tony groaned, putting a hand on his side as his wound twinged painfully. He wasn’t fit to do any deep space travel, even if his armor hadn’t been destroyed by Thanos. Their only hope was that the Guardians’ ship had survived the battle.

If it did, they could get out of here and make their way to Earth. And on the way, he’d give Quill a peace of his mind.

Peter bounded over to him and took his hand, hauling him to his feet. Mantis descended the steps toward them, supporting Quill’s arm over her shoulders, while Drax and the blue lady converged on their position as well. Strange, oddly, remained exactly where he was several feet away, a pensive expression on his face.

“You ok?” Tony asked Peter, who gulped and nodded, his eyes flitting down to the stab wound. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ve had worse.”

“Something is happening,” Mantis declared loudly, causing all heads to snap toward her.

Then her entire body bloomed apart into dust, and drifted away.

_ What the fuck. _ Tony recoiled, while Quill grabbed sluggishly at what was left of her.

“Quill?” Drax whispered—right before he vanished as well.

Star-Lord whirled around, wide-eyed, to stare at the rest of the group. “Oh man...”

“Steady, Quill,” Tony ordered, as if that would make a difference.

As the last Guardian disintegrated, he stumbled backward, away from the scene. The blue lady seemed unhurt, but what about—

Strange was already starting to fall apart as he met Tony’s eyes, annoyingly and heartbreakingly calm about the whole situation. He was dying without protest, as if he had done it a million times before.

“There was no other way,” the wizard said solemnly, and then he was gone.

“Tony?”

_ No. _

Tony didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see what was happening to them all. But he wasn’t going to let him go through this alone.

Peter was clutching himself, his expression slowly turning from confused to fearful. Bits of his body were starting to break apart and drift away, like flakes of dead skin.

Tony reached out for him, and he took a small step forward. “You’re alright.”

The words were hollow, and they burned like acid in his mouth.

“I don’t...I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know...” Peter stumbled, and more of him broke apart with the movement. Tony caught him, pulling him into his arms without a second thought. Peter clung to him as if he were a life preserver, as if Tony could save him from what was happening.

Tony already knew that he couldn’t.

“I don’t want to go, sir, please!” Peter begged, and the knife that twisted between his ribs made Tony close his eyes and bow his head. “Please, I don’t want to go...I don’t want to go...”

He wasn’t sure what happened first—either Tony’s knees gave out, or Peter’s legs vanished. Whatever the case, they fell to the ground, Peter underneath him. For a moment he simply stared up at Titan’s sky, as if lost in the orange clouds. Then, his gaze found Tony, teary-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Tell Connor...”

But he broke off, glassy-eyed, and the rest of his body slipped through Tony’s fingers like sand. 

He was gone.

Tony collapsed, unable to hold himself up anymore, and waited for the end to come.

Nothing happened.

Seconds passed, and with each moment the cruel reality sunk further and further in.

Death was too good for the great Tony Stark.

He closed his eyes, let the tears quietly fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so OBVIOUSLY this isn't the end. I'm playing catch-up to canon and that requires having to go through the Russo films. I could completely rewrite IW and Endgame to create an ending that I preferred, but that hype train has long since sailed. I suspect not many people are interested in Thanos and his rock collection anymore, and frankly I'd be hard pressed to convince myself to write it.
> 
> The primary purpose of these "recaps" is to get Connor, Peter, and Tony into the unexplored territory of phase 4 without requiring readers to have retained hundreds of thousands of words in the process. Once that's done, we'll get back to the plot.
> 
> The Endgame fic will be coming along shortly! I look forward to seeing you on the other side.


End file.
